


Don't Start

by CrabOfDoom



Category: Final Fantasy VII, Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Burns, Fix-It, Gen, Gun Violence, Intersex, Kingsglaive - Freeform, M/M, Other, Palace Intrigue, Polyship Roadtrip, Restraints, Telepathy, Veer from Canon, emotional stress, military torture, political dramaz, what if
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-09-16
Updated: 2019-03-27
Packaged: 2019-07-12 22:19:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 28,992
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16004462
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CrabOfDoom/pseuds/CrabOfDoom
Summary: On the eve of a peace treaty's signing, the last thing Ravus expected was a truce.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Some of the fic below was previously submitted while incomplete. Gaps are now filled, and some additions have been made within the parts that were posted. ~2/3rds of the text below is new. I want to continue this work, but future chapters will _not_ be as long as this. Probably. Hopefully. We shall see.

"Lord Ravus?" spoke a Lucian guard from the arch that led into the guest suite's sitting room.

Ravus hated the title. No matter whose voice carried it, he could hear them judging him as being less than his birthright. No one could fill the word with contempt and mockery quite like Caligo, but it was an insult from everyone's lips.

"Speak," Ravus ordered bluntly. He paced away from the window, and around the open expanse at the sitting room's center. His eyes darted about for anything that could hold his interest, but Insomnia's Citadel was so damned obsessed with the black of Etro. Most of the decor in his suite blended into itself. His gaze slid from one object the next, and rarely took full notice of any of it.

"His Majesty, King Regis, has requested an audience," the guard relayed.

Well, if _that_ wasn't the last thing on Eos that Ravus would've cared to do at that moment.

"There are a dozen Imperial dignitaries in the Citadel tonight," Ravus sighed. "That's what they're along for, is these audiences and political niceties. Pester them. I'll not be attending."

"Begging your pardon, my lord," the guard persisted, "but this is not a general address. His Majesty wishes to speak with _you_ , specifically."

"I'm not in Insomnia for social calls," Ravus snapped. "I'm under the chancellor's orders to not leave my chambers until he, the Emperor, or the General calls for me. If Regis wishes to speak to me, he will have to limp his old carcass here, to do it."

"That was the plan, from the start, my boy."

Ravus stopped his pacing, his back to the arch, and winced. The Astrals hated him; there was no other explanation for a lifetime of this grotesque luck. Ravus cleared his face, and turned blankly to the source of the second voice.

Regis did indeed limp slightly, his left leg encased in a metal brace, as he entered just within the space of the sitting room. Little more than a tilt of the king's head dismissed the guard, although Ravus could tell that there was another man still in the suite's entryway, awaiting the space to enter behind his king, with patience. Regis' personal bodyguard, no doubt.

"I trust," Regis said, "that you'll forgive Clarus' presence, as we speak? I give my word, that my shield is no gossip."

"Do as you must," Ravus all but shrugged.

The king didn't wait for an invitation before claiming a seat in the closest well-upholstered armchair. It was his, after all, Ravus supposed. As was everything in the suite, save for the clothes on the deputy high commander's back. There were far greater things to take offense over, than a man not asking before he took the weight off of a pained leg.

"Remarkable, that you managed to grow taller still, than last I saw you," Regis said, as he settled. "It's been many years, Ravus."

" _Twelve_ years," Ravus said, flatly.

"Your parents would be bursting with pride, over the young man you've become."

"Doubtful," Ravus replied, as his tone gained a sharp edge. "But, I suppose I'll never know."

"Hm," Regis acknowledged. "I do wish that we were catching up, under better circumstances."

"What better circumstances could there be?" Ravus asked. His words and slight gestures were in keeping with a son of royalty, accustomed to coddling the egos of diplomats. That was not the boy Regis had last seen in Tenebrae, more than a decade before. The voice that spoke such rehearsed words, however, lacked any enthusiasm for them. _That_ , frankly, was more recognizable, of a skinny sixteen-year-old who was determined to look bigger than he was, sound stronger than he felt, and let even the King of Lucis know that he was a protector, and would not allow harm to befall his family.

And then, a Nif dropship that was after Regis' head had brought death and misery to everyone _but_.

"Surely," Ravus said, "the end of war between Lucis and Niflheim is worthy?"

"I suppose I'd merely hoped that gaining new family through marriage might be a circumstance that meant more to you," Regis said.

The Deputy High Commander's pale eyes darkened.

"Nothing means more to me, than Lunafreya's happiness," Ravus all but growled. "That aside, Noctis is not even here, and a treaty is what has brought the Emperor to Insomnia, not a wedding."

"Yes, I know why Iedolas is here," Regis said firmly. "And now that you mention that a wedding, even an engagement party, is not happening here and now, perhaps you can explain to me why _you_ are here?"

"I have every right to be," Ravus said, a faint snarl under his voice. "Tenebrae is an equal in the Empire, and someone of her royal blood _should_ be wherever it has business that affects all Imperial citizens."

Regis merely blinked, calmly.

"Don't lie to me, Ravus," Regis warned. "I'm not stupid, and neither is any child of Sylva's."

"Don't you dare speak her name," Ravus hissed. "It was your presence that killed her. You, taking your son and running, and leaving her to die. Leaving _us_ to die. Leaving Lunafreya, the last of Tenebrae's freedom, in the hands of our invaders. Twelve years, Regis, and not even one godsdamned note to apologize?!"

The former prince's rage boiled over. He couldn't have stopped himself, if he'd tried, and his balled right fist struck out to connect with Regis' jaw. It took only an instant. One heartbeat more, and Ravus felt his back hit hard against a wall. He pried opened his eyes to find Clarus' sword at his throat.

"Clarus!" Regis called out. "Stand down."

"With all due respect, Majesty," Clarus growled, "like hell, I will."

"You know this boy," Regis said, as he slowly righted himself again in his seat. "He's not dangerous."

"A decade ago, perhaps," Clarus contested. "No willing pet of Iedolas' is going to be harmless."

"You may want to listen to your shield, old man," Ravus spoke through clenched teeth, even as he trembled in anger.

"Clarus, enough," Regis stated. His words were soft, but carried his clear authority. "He's as much a prisoner of the Empire, as his sister. Stand down."

Confusion shorted out Ravus' anger. Tenebrae's own royal council saw him as nothing but a turncoat who knelt for Iedolas, voluntarily. No one, not even his sister, looked at him, and saw his hands tied. Here, Regis, of all people, could? Ravus didn't even notice as Clarus' sword returned to Regis' armiger with a thick wisp of blue light.

"Ravus, my boy," Regis sighed, "I believe we have a problem. I did send letters, to you and to Lunafreya. Dozens. As many formal requests to Iedolas, to be allowed to speak with you both in person. Did they never tell you? Never let you see them?"

Regis' last memory of Ravus' face, pale eyes full of pain and in search of answers that were nowhere to be found, was in the eyes of the grown man before him now.

"No," Ravus confirmed, his voice suddenly small and lost. The former prince physically shook himself out of the stun, and tried his hardest to rekindle whatever hatred of Insomnia's king that he could still find glowing. "And I suspect that to be because no such letters exist."

"I can show you," Regis offered.

"You what?"

"My handwriting can be abysmal, on days I'm not at my best," Regis said. "I wrote each letter, each request, myself. The copies dispatched to Zegnautus and Fenestala were re-written by a secretary, far better with a pen. The originals were filed away into the archives, as with all of my correspondence. I can show you, Ravus, that they do indeed exist."

"I-I can't leave," Ravus said. "I'm under orders to stay here. ...That's your game, isn't it? To ruin everything by letting the chancellor think I've betrayed the Emperor?"

Regis and Clarus both gave a curious tilt of their heads. Paranoia, both supposed, was to be expected after twelve years spent as a captive of a hostile nation, but it was breaking Ravus, and seemed to allow more to slip than the former prince had intended.

"What is there, to betray, Ravus?" Regis asked slowly. "How could you be a traitor to the Empire, just for following me to my office?"

"You spoke of a general, earlier," Clarus added. "What general?"

If obtaining Lunafreya's freedom was likely to be a suicide mission for Ravus, anyway, did it matter which government it would be, that ultimately killed him?

"Glauca."

"Why in the name of the Astrals would Glauca be here?" Regis demanded, quietly. "We're all signing a treaty, not meeting on a battlefield."

A light snort of dark humor from Ravus didn't go unnoticed.

"What do you know?" Regis asked, through a chill.

"Much," Ravus admitted, if vaguely. Information could be a bargaining chip, he realized. He could already be tried for treason, with what little he'd said so far, so why not try to make it count for something good? "But, you have to swear to me that Luna will be kept safe and protected here, in Insomnia."

"You have my word," Regis nodded.

Ravus grasped the gold chain and woven leather scarf at the front of Regis' clothes, and pulled the king closer. Ravus was again shaking, but the light in his eyes was a new mix of terrified and desperate.

"Nay, _you swear it to me_ ," Ravus insisted. "Why else would I spend the past decade playing the good Imperial to the same bastards who made a prisoner of my only family? Even _she_ doesn't believe me, but I've sold my very soul, trying to keep her safe and alive, Regis. You _SWEAR IT TO ME_ , that she'll remain that way, no matter what happens to me."

"And I swear to you, son of Sylva Nox Fleuret," Regis replied calmly, "that I will do everything within my power to keep Lunafreya safe."

With no small reluctance, and with obvious relief from the king's shield, Ravus released Regis' finery, and allowed himself to drop to sit on a sofa's edge. He pulled his hands down his face, and loosed a heavy, shuddering sigh.

"Do not go to the signing," Ravus warned. His voice croaked as old stress left, and new stress made itself to home. "It's all a set-up."

"We've already suspected that the Empire will regard the treaty with the same respect it would show a small mountain of behemoth shit," Clarus said.

"Nay," Ravus clarified, "I mean that it's a ploy for Iedolas to get close to Regis. It's going to be an ambush. Iedolas always has a gun beneath his robes. This shall be no different. Under the cover of Regis' assassination, the chancellor is going to rend the Crystal from its holds with a dropship, and Iedolas is going to take it and the Ring of the Lucii back to Niflheim, as his prizes."

"Ravus, is this true?" Regis breathed out.

The former prince halfheartedly tossed up his hands, and let them fall back into his lap. "You ask me, then you don't believe me..."

"I admit that I find it difficult to believe Iedolas would stage such an outright assault," Regis said.

"He's under the belief that with the ring," Ravus said, "it's he who will be chosen as the True King, and be able to wield the ring's power. With the ring and the crystal, he believes no nation on Eos will stand against him, and the Aldercapt line will reign over a new Solheim."

"The ring doesn't work that way," Regis pointed out. "It doesn't just obey whomever puts it on. Ravus, you know this. I know Sylva must've taught you both the Cosmogony."

"Ye," Ravus nodded.

"So, why would Iedolas ever think the ring or the Crystal would choose him?"

"Because I haven't told him otherwise...?" Ravus suggested, with a slow shrug of feigned innocence. "Perhaps I want the old bastard to die horribly, for what he's put us through. Perhaps I enjoyed the thought of Iedolas killing you, while I did nothing, and then killing himself in a mad quest to rule the world."

"Impressive," Regis thought aloud. "I'm horrified with myself, to agree that I can see that plan's appeal to you. Only, I had no idea that you hated me enough to wish me dead."

"You killed my mother, left us behind, killed my partner..." Ravus shook his head. "I cannot forgive. But, I can ignore, if it means Luna's protected."

"How...," Regis ventured, "was it _I_   who killed your partner? I've never been aware of you having one."

"Prior to this farce of a treaty," Ravus told him, "a scouting mission was sent to the outer reaches of Insomnia. In search of the wall's weakest points, where to concentrate getting the most MTs through once your barrier fell, that sort of reconnaissance. Another general, one Safay Roth, was sent on that mission, as defense. He was mobbed by Lucian militants, and killed."

The king and his shield exchanged a glance, without moving their heads.

"We harbor no militants," Regis said. "Insomnia's military is confined within the Wall, to protect the crown city."

"There aren't any known militias in Lucis," Clarus added. "There are no settlements big enough to sustain one, outside of the crown city, and if one did exist, it could never have the strength nor firepower to bring down an Nif general, if he was even half the warrior that Glauca is."

"Don't," Ravus pleaded weakly, his face in his hands. "Don't do this to me."

"Do what, my boy?" Regis asked.

"If Lucians didn't kill my gem, then Ardyn _did_." Ravus did his best not to scream every word. "In my rage, my despair, I wrote the proposal for invasion, myself, and _gods_ , how I wanted you and Insomnia to suffer, for taking him away from me! And Ardyn knew that. He must have. He must have known that I'd fend off every weapon on Eos, to protect Luna, but I'd burn this whole planet to the ground, to avenge my beautiful soldier. He killed my Safay, himself, and he knew all he had to say was 'Lucians did it', and I'd be prepared to kill _you_ , without a care to what happened to Insomnia nor prophecy, as a consequence."

"You had cost me my mother, Regis," Ravus said. "You had cost me my freedom, had cost me the most precious thing that has ever been mine, alone. I was so determined that neither you nor your son would ever cost me my sister--nor the world, it's Oracle--as well. Safay's death pushed me over that ledge, of wanting you and Insomnia to suffer for his... _utter defilement_. I didn't know which Lucians had done it, and I wanted death to rain down on all of you. And it _will_ , tomorrow. Over a lie."

"There may yet be time to stop it," Clarus offered. "We now know it's coming. Before, we had only suspicions, and none strong enough to act on. But whatever we can do, it must be done, tonight. Anything at all more that you can tell us, Ravus, you must. Now."

"The Empire will never protect the Oracle forever," Regis said. "If a new Solheim is what Iedolas is after, the Lucii and Oracle bloodlines will forever be perceived as a threat to his claim of the world's sole throne. People will continue to follow Lunafreya, and rise up against him, in her name. If you will not trust me as a man, then trust me as a descendant of the Lucii, Ravus. I cannot allow harm to come to the Oracle, if I wish for my line to continue its duty to Eos. Neither can Noctis. We three are in agreement, that Lunafreya's safety is our utmost priority."

"Even as you left the last Oracle to her death, and her only daughter to the MTs?" Ravus challenged. It would have been a spiteful question, at any other time in his life. In the moment, it only laid bare the hurt and unhealed wounds of twelve years without answers.

"I live with my mistakes, my shames, and my regrets," Regis replied. "You shouldn't take it upon yourself to share in them, my boy."

Ravus folded his hands to rest his forehead against them.

"Where is Glauca?" Clarus asked, calmly.

"I don't know," Ravus answered, without looking up. "I'm sure you can understand that I avoid any possibility of seeing him, even from across a docking bay. But, I've not yet had the occasion to avoid him, since Drautos first told me he'd be along for this mission."

"Since _who_ told you?!" Regis and Clarus demanded, as one.

Ravus looked up, confused at the reaction. "Captain Drautos. He's been an officer in the Nif army for at least as long as I've been a part of it. He and Safay provided most of my training."

" _Titus_ Drautos?" Regis pressed.

"Ye?" Ravus nodded.

"Shit," Clarus sighed. "What do we do, Regis? How do we alert the Glaives, without Drautos finding out?"

"Alert them to what?" Ravus asked.

"That their captain is a spy at best," Regis said, "and a traitor, at worst. Drautos is the captain of my Kingsglaive; has been, for years. I thought no Lucian was more devoted to Insomnia's safety."

"What of the Glaive, Ulric?" Clarus thought aloud. "He was recently disciplined for going against Drautos' orders, to save another Glaive's life. He may be more committed to the crown than to his captain, could take over command until the dust settles and we can properly weed out whatever Drautos' damage may be."

"Possible." Regis nodded. "I'll send for him, shortly. We must get word to Cor, as well. He's already overseeing our own forces' preparedness for protecting Iedolas' envoy; we must tell him to shift our armies to prepare to defend Insomnia from within. Thank the Six, that Noctis is already away."

"Ravus, the emperor's envoy, alone, is not enough to pose a real threat to the Citadel's forces," Clarus said. "Where are the numbers coming from, that would?"

"They're holding, out at sea," Ravus supplied. "There's supposed to be a dreadnought and five dropships. Each has a squadron of one hundred and fifty MTs, and a mecha gunner. The dreadnought carries an additional three hundred MTs, and two hundred Imperial soldiers."

"Odin's balls," Clarus winced.

"They can't get through the Wall nor the shield, while my power is still intact," Regis assured him. "But the envoy ship that's already inside... If Izunia makes good on an attempt to steal the Crystal, the shield's going to be disrupted. We've no choice but to have our own gunners shoot it down. Iedolas is within the Citadel; it can't be mistaken for an attempted assassination. If the chancellor is aboard when it falls, good riddance."

"I'd understand, if my advice is unwelcome," Ravus said, "but if Accordo were asked to simply have their ships in the area confirm the presence of the dreadnought and dropships, it would do much to support Insomnia's self-defense."

"It would indeed," Regis agreed. "They'd not need to engage on our behalf, but merely verify the presence. It will mean, however, that Iedolas will know someone among his brass betrayed the Empire and warned us of the invasion. He'll no doubt look first to you, Ravus."

"If Insomnia stands by tomorrow night," Ravus nodded, "Luna will be here, and safe, and I'll have no need to return to Niflheim. If Iedolas tries to harm Tenebrae in retaliation, it will be an unprovoked atrocity against his own subjects. Accordo will corroborate that Insomnia thwarted a Nif invasion, and that a Tenebraean gave them the information to stop it."

"No matter how harshly Iedolas may have other nations under his boot," Ravus figured, "it's indefensible. The Oracle's faithful would hound their governments to cut trade with Niflheim, and Gralea can't sustain itself for long, without imported food. It would torture me to see Tenebrae attacked, but practically, it would galvanize the rest of Eos against Niflheim's incessant annexations. I can't see Iedolas risking that level of resistance."

"He might," Regis sighed, "if he's confident that Insomnia will be crippled--or leveled--by the time anyone finds out."

Regis rose from his seat, slowly, but steadily.

"I must go, to brief my retainer," he told the late Oracle's son. "A Glaive named Nyx will be by, to keep you updated, Ravus. Hopefully, within the hour. Look before you strike, my boy; Nyx may use a hidden passage, and you may not hear him enter, through the door. Only he or Cor, my marshal, will know about our discussion here. Speak of it to no one else, no matter their uniform."

Ravus nodded his understanding. It felt as though it took so much effort, for such a simple gesture. Emotional exhaustion was catching up with him.

Clarus opened the suite's main door for Regis, who passed through with a determined stride, and closed it behind himself.

"Whom do I send to bring back Cor?" Clarus asked, quietly, in the angular, cavernous hallway. "Even knowing your office's defenses, I'm in no mood to leave you there, alone, to do it, myself."

"We aren't goint to my office," Regis answered. "Not yet. I can contact those who need it, from my phone."

Two questions warred for Clarus' attention. He chose the one that presented the most apparent danger.

"Is it wise to attempt a call, with so many Nif ships around?" he asked. "They're doubtlessly listening in on any communications that they can access."

"You really must let your daughter explain the workings of modern technology to you, Clarus," Regis said, and managed a slight smile. "Encoding. Formats. Frequencies. Insomnia and Niflheim have both developed high technologies, but we've done so, independent of one another. They may be able to intercept communications, but it's going to take them a while to learn anything at all, from raw data that isn't their own."

"And all we need, is to hope that that will take longer than, say, thirty-six hours?" Clarus parsed.

"Precisely." Regis led their brisk walk to a much shorter and narrower corridor, cut into the space between public doors and archways. His thumb pressed to a small glass oval in a black panel that blended into the wall. The door of an elevator opened, reserved for the use of the Citadel's security and highest staff.

Inside, Regis pressed a four-digit code before selecting a floor, to access an area of the vertically vast palace that wasn't intended for citizens nor visiting heads of state. As the car began to descend, Clarus was fairly certain which of those areas Regis was after, and likely had an answer to his second question, of their destination.

"You noticed that name, as well?" the shield asked. Voices always sounded so flat and blunt in the elevators, compared to the openness of the rest of the Citadel. Even bedrooms had better acoustics.

"I did," Regis nodded. "And I think we need to reach clear terms with that thing, before we allow either to know of the other's presence."

" _This_ show is all yours, Reggie," Clarus warned. "I can't begin to guess what you have in mind, if I'm asked any questions. If they so much as find out too soon, Ravus could assume that you've betrayed him, used him just as Niflheim has, and you'll never get his cooperation back, after that. It could be enough to turn Lady Lunafreya against us."

"Lunafreya will continue her duty to assist Noctis," Regis said, "no matter what she may think of me, or of my hospitality to an uninvited guest. Noctis knows nothing of this, and she will believe him, when he says as much."

"As you say, Majesty," Clarus relented, with a sigh.

\---------------

Alone once more, however briefly, Ravus leaned against a stone divide between the tall windows of his quarters' parlor, and begrudgingly nursed a cup of Lucian coffee. In truth, the brew could've come from anywhere, and Ravus would have had as little fondness for it, but his nerves at once left him exhausted after speaking with Regis, yet unable to even contemplate sleep.

A war was coming to an end, with the coming day. A peace could be reached, but the war's final day was going to prove to be its most dangerous and consequential. No, sleep wasn't going to happen for a long while yet. The coffee was Ravus' only hope to keep his wits about himself, and not let the chance of freedom for his sister and their homeland slip away.

For a month, Ravus had braced himself for the day when Glauca would kill Regis and, somehow, some way, Ravus would get his hands on the ring of the Lucii first. He would not be rejected by the Kings of Old, the way Iedolas would be. He couldn't be. Every beat of his heart now was for naught but his sister, for their people. For Eos.

It would cost him his life, in the end. So said the ancient legends of commoners who had tried to wield the ring. They were granted power for the greater good, but at a fatal price. Ravus would pay it. Who else was going to? Who else could? With the Lucii's power, he had the position, the access, to kill Glauca. To kill Izunia. To end the Aldercapt line and its increasing reign of brutality. Tenebrae would be free. Lunafreya would be free. Ravus could face his death, unafraid of being met with his parents' disappointment. He'd be remembered as more than a coat rack for others' use. It was the best fate left to him.

Or, it had been, an hour ago.

Now, there might be hope of freeing Lunafreya, if not yet their homeland. They might have the chance to work toward that goal, together. Ravus might just be able to succeed without the ring... and live.

Alone, of course. One of the reasons that accepting an impending death hadn't been that difficult. One of the reasons that he wasn't yet sold on the thought of altering his plotted course.

Ravus thought of his mother constantly. But tonight, of her love for his father. After Grigio had died, Sylva had changed, in her son's perception. Ravus still wasn't sure how he'd known, nor what it was that he'd known was different. Two lights had been there, in his parents, and then both were gone, although only one was entombed. It was the only frame of reference that made sense, when Ravus had been told of Safay's death.

Sylva carried on without her lover, for her children, for her country, for her world. She'd only had to for eight years, before Glauca came for Regis but it was a queen protecting her son that was felled by Glauca's blade. Ravus was now twenty-eight. He had no children, no country, no world that needed him to be strong. To survive. He could have sixty years yet ahead of him. Maybe more, with healers' blood in a body that wasn't weakened by constantly administering to the sick nor making covenants with the gods. Eleven years of love, with weeks at a time lost to being separated by duties, and now, sixty years without it, ever again.

There was no guarantee that Lunafreya would want him back in her life, even if he were to free her from literal chains with his own hands. He knew from personal experience that understanding was hard, that forgiveness was harder, and that letting go of pain for fear that you'll forget it and only be hurt again might as well be impossible. _Yes, good, thank you, but now I can't bear to look at you any longer_. Weren't those his own feelings, toward Regis?

Sixty years.

He could take up his mother's mantle of comforting the people, albeit not as their healer. He could be a priest for the Oracle's faithful, even if she'd want nothing to do with him, in person. But for twenty-eight years, Ravus had lived as whatever someone else needed him to be. Whatever someone else expected. His instincts clawed against those imposed shrouds; even those he'd convinced himself that he'd wanted to bear. Without them, however, what was he? Oblivion didn't require an answer.

And so, the allure of the ring remained.

In the parlor's silence, a new knock on the main door would've made a more rested Ravus jump out of his skin. As it stood, he only felt a sinking dread. There were knocks, and then there were _knocks_. This was not the practical rapport of a Kingsglaive announcing himself. This was formal. It was likely to be either Iedolas, or the Chancellor. Ravus wasn't sure which would be worse.

The door opened a heartbeat after the last knock.

"Lord Ravus," the same assigned doorman announced, into the modest entryway that separated hallway from parlor, "His Radiance, Emperor Iedolas Aldercapt."

Ravus would later bless his years of habit for formality, set down his cup, and straightened to face Iedolas fully.

"Your Radiance," he echoed. His fatigue evened out his tone into a casualness that his nerves would never have managed.

"At ease," Iedolas told him, with a dismissive wave of his hand. His voice sounded almost friendly, but Ravus noted a distinct lack of any pleasantry. "I wanted to pay a visit, before tonight's festivities."

"Oh, gracious," Ravus breathed out, in honest realization. "I'm afraid I'd forgotten when the reception was to start."

"It's of no matter," Iedolas told him. "I came to tell you, that I don't want you there."

"... As you wish, Your Radiance," Ravus deferred. He couldn't entirely keep the unasked question from his face.

"There will already be far too many of Lucian society there," Iedolas offered in explanation. "As much as I wish to speak to Regis, unaccosted by schmoozers, so too do I want you to remain undistracted from your orders, tomorrow."

"Understood, Your Radiance." Ravus acknowledged, with a measured bow of his head. "My focus on the morrow's business is indeed what pushed the reception from my mind."

"Yes, you do have a rather dogged determination, when given a charge," Iedolas said. Ravus hated that the lines on the emperor's face so often made his casual expressions so hard to read. "A restlessness, champing at the bit to get a mission underway and achieve your objectives. You would do well to learn some patience, Commander."

Iedolas lifted a hand to Ravus' chin, and turned the much younger man's head back and forth, in some sort of appraisal. Dear gods, why was he _touching_?

"But," Iedolas concluded, as he let go, "that focus will serve you well in the future, I'm sure."

"An honor, to hear from you, Your Radiance," Ravus said. "I can do no less than my all, to justify your faith."

"And you will," Iedolas said. "You will. When the sun rises, Commander, it will be to usher in a new era. I have not put so many long years towards reclaiming my family's birthright to Solheim, however, just to see it dismantled, as soon as I am in the hereafter."

"Verstael is still working tirelessly, at a means for my reign to be eternal," Iedolas said, "yet, I must face the possibility that this body's age may catch up with me, before he succeeds. And so, I have been planning for some time to name a successor to my throne. It's been rather liberating to have the choice from all of the empire, without being constrained to my own lineage."

"Whom would you deem worthy of such an appointment, Your Radiance?" Ravus asked.

Iedolas raised an eyebrow, but a corner of his mouth pulled up into a grin.

"I would choose my own blood, if I could," Iedolas said bluntly, "but the time for a direct descendant has long passed. The next best option, is a fine specimen of royal blood. An ancient line, going back to Old Solheim's end seems fitting, to oversee its rebirth and continuation."

"You mean _I?"_ Ravus' voice squeaked inelegantly. The emperor chuckled.

"I like an officer who isn't presumptuous of his own importance," Iedolas praised. "You _should_ be surprised at such an offer, Commander. It is an offer that shall remain open; however, only to me. You've served the Empire well, these many years, and you are my first choice to name as prince and heir of the Niflheim Empire. Glauca will lose his fire, once Regis dies, and Insomnia falls. Vengeance is the alpha and omega of his loyalty to my empire. Show me that _your_ fire will stay alight, Ravus Nox Fleuret, and my gift to you on your thirtieth birthday may well be your future upon my throne."

Ravus swallowed. "This is... overwhelming, Your Radiance."

"And somewhat probationary," Iedolas said. "It must be earned, Commander. You're well on the path. Prove your worth, and it will not be Tenebrae that you rule, but all of Eos. Fenestala would make quite a beautiful capitol, don't you think?"

"Indeed, she would," Ravus sighed, wistfully.

"Well, we shall discuss more, once we return to Gralea," Iedolas stated. "For now, Commander, rest. Prepare for tomorrow, lest we lose the future beyond."

"Of course, Your Radiance," Ravus said, his bow deeper.

Iedolas turned away for the door. Ravus was only vaguely aware of it opening and closing, under the doorman's hand.

A second click brought him out of his daze. That of a door, he was certain, but there was no one else in the suite. How could one door close twice?

A coldness swept through his veins. One door hadn't closed twice. A second door had closed, with less care and more speed than it had been silently opened.

"The Glaive," Ravus breathed out, and winced.

It didn't matter how long they might've been listening. Anything Iedolas had said could be damning. Anything Ravus had said would not be interpreted as appeasement to get Iedolas to leave. Regis was going to consider Ravus compromised. Untrustable. The entire plan to thwart the ambush could be reconfigured, by dawn. They wouldn't tell Ravus, if it were. Not now.

The ring. The only real option left was to get to the ring.

\---------------

The Citadel held a medical ward that encompassed the entire footprint of the four-towered palace, on the first floor below ground. Glass rods, and later, fiber-optic tubes had been run down from the large courtyard centered between the towers, through small channels in the walls that held back the earth, and provided a small amount of natural light for security and patient morale, alike.

On the second sub-level, were modest shared dorms and single apartments, for Citadel staff who were needed on-call, or had passed high security clearances and no longer wished to commute to their work.

The tubes and their daylight didn't reach below the second sub-level. There, the light, the temperature, the air itself, was all under precise human control.

On the third sub-level, the Citadel's security force monitored everything going on above it. A small jail lined the wall to the north, to hold anyone troublesome found on the royal grounds. Some of the consistently-cool space was dedicated to the preservation of artifacts of the Lucis Caelum lineage, and generations of documents and paperwork.

On the fourth, the cells were for interrogation. Sometimes, for hours. Others, for years. Occasionally, one of the hinged steel panels in the reinforced frames that kept the entire space from caving in was opened, a vertical hollow dug out, and a broken body was sealed into a standing grave. A unique mausoleum of enemies of Lucis, encircling the manicured courtyard, from four levels below. It didn't seem all that out of place, where once oil lamps and now fluorescent light bulbs powered by meteor shards were all that kept its inhabitants from madness in the pitch black.

Lucis' king and his shield made their way from the elevator and down the main hall, toward a cell they'd last visited weeks before. It was jarring to Clarus that a door Regis had been led to by a pair of military police, in this very literal dungeon, opened to a bright light that might as well have been a beautiful early summer afternoon.

Any pleasure to be had from the full-spectrum light was entirely lost on the sole prisoner of the spacious, barren cell.

Lucian military officers, two of six that had been assigned in rotation to Regis' 'uninvited guest', kept at ease and still against the walls perpendicular to the door. Each had their hands at the ready on a rifle, should the focus of their interest mount an attempt at escape. There was little chance of that, once a more effective means of being subdued had been discovered.

Directly beneath the lights, in the floor's center, knelt their captive. Bound at the ankles to a short spreader bar that prevented independent movement of the feet. Arms bound behind the back, hands encased in rectangular mitts of multiple thick layers of leather, to prevent involuntary clawing at the skin.

As far as any of the soldiers had learned of their captive, he--... she? ... _they?_ \--were a Nif. Military, clearly. No civilian spy would have lasted so long, without cracking. The soldiers had gotten nothing verbal from them, in over a month. Nothing at all, while they were cuffed to a metal chair. Once the interrogation lamp had been aimed at their face, did the soldiers realize their prisoner's eyes, with their strange coeurl-like pupils, couldn't take the direct glare. They'd been moved to this cell for further questioning.

Stifled screams were the response to the new surroundings. Within minutes, the edges of the prisoner's ears were cherry red. Fifteen minutes, and the same flesh took on an almost necrotic purple. That they'd been captured with their long, dark silver hair pulled back in a thick braid offered no protection at all.

Regis had been told of the initial capture, and at that point, had been asked down to see for himself, and give his orders. The unusually tall prisoner was stripped, to expose the most skin to the lights; bound in their current restraints. It took roughly an hour for the skin of their back and shoulders to burn to an angry, dark violet, riddled with blisters. A soldier would then slap the burn between their shoulders with a hi-potion. The burns would heal, as though they'd never existed, and offer a few seconds' reprieve. Then, the process of the artificial sunburns would begin again. Once a day, icy water from a high-pressure hose cleaned off the sweat and dead skin that fell away with the potions' healing. Every meal was forced. The prisoner received one per day, simply because forcing any more was a waste of effort.

More than a month of this existence, Clarus realized, and all that the Citadel's security had learned, it had gotten not from the prisoner, but from a barcode, tattooed atop their right wrist.

"General Roth," Regis acknowledged. It was met with little more than deep growl. "I require a word with you."

The general made to spit at the king's feet, but couldn't produce the necessary saliva. Their lips formed a vulgar epithet, but no sound came from a dry throat.

The king of Lucis sighed, and motioned to the soldier at his right.

"Heal it," Regis ordered. "Give it water. Lower the lights, by three-quarters."

Both soldiers bowed their heads in acknowledgement, but only one moved to obey, while the other stayed on guard. The soldier's actions were somewhat restrained under the king's watchful gaze, but remained far from gentle. Neither king nor shield winced nor shied away from the yank of a braid that pulled the general's head back to grant a slow stream of water down his throat, nor the sound of their skin cracking like autumn leaves underfoot, from the forced bend of their back. A fine mist of water sprayed from the general's lips as the potion slapped between his shoulders.

For the first time in too many days for Safay to keep track of, the unrelenting lights dimmed. He tried to open his eyes, but had held them so tightly closed, for so long, that the salt in his tears had encrusted his long lashes together.

It was Clarus who drew a clean handkerchief, wetted it with the hose, and held the cloth against the general's eyes.

"Why now?" the general's weakened voice rasped.

"I've no time nor want to lie," Regis said, calmly. "Insomnia is in grave danger, and she will need all the help she can get."

"I've given all I will," Safay hissed.

"Hmm," Regis responded with a smirk. "You've been down here for--what's it been, now--forty-nine days? I've been waiting for you to offer any explanation for why you were found outside of the Wall. Any signal that you were ready to talk. But after today, I honestly don't think there's anything you could now tell me, that I don't already know."

"Hmph."

"Was the invasion already planned, when you were dispatched?" Regis asked.

Safay said nothing, in reply. Beneath the cloth, Clarus felt the general's brow knit, and his eyes unconsciously move side to side in thought. A search for missing information. Confusion.

Clarus looked up to Regis, and silently shook his head. Regis returned a single nod. That at least corroborated the claim that Ravus has proposed shifting the invasion sooner, in vengeance.

"Iedolas has never once demanded your extradition," Regis said. "We've been in talks almost daily, for three weeks, over a peace treaty. He's never once mentioned a missing general. Not a single question about any airships, downed by weather or malfunction. No spoken regard for your well-being nor whereabouts, whatsoever. Neither has your Chancellor. No one has."

"Pfft. Would _you?"_

"If I'd sent one of my greatest assets on a secret mission, and lost contact?" Regis replied, honestly. "If that mission was to search for weaknesses in defenses? If admitting that such an asset was so close to his capitol, without advance notice? No. I imagine that so much as breathing the possibility would arouse suspicions."

Clarus mimicked the expression beneath his palm: a rebellious scowl that just briefly became blank surprise.

"Be that as it may," Regis said, "let's review what we know, shall we? You were here, to find chinks in the Wall's armor. You were caught. Niflheim has lifted no finger to find you through the government that would almost certainly know where you are. Shortly after your disappearance, Iedolas decided that my son should marry the Oracle--"

The mention of Lunafreya caused the barest tilt in the general's head, more toward the source of Regis' voice.

"--and in honor of such a wedding, Lucis and Niflheim would hold a ceremony here, to sign a treaty and declare a ceasefire. Only, a source within the Nif ranks, a source that seems to be proving more reliable by the moment, had a crisis of conscience. They told me that the treaty is a ruse, and that Iedolas is here to invade the Crown City, and steal our Crystal."

Regis took a step closer to his prisoner.

"To do that, General," he said carefully, "a great deal of this Citadel would have to be destroyed. If this palace falls, these basements will surely collapse. With you inside. No one will come looking for you, before a strike, as the official story in Niflheim is that you're already dead."

"... I'm what?" Safay asked, flatly.

"You've been abandoned by your government, General," Regis told him. "The Chancellor has written you off as killed-in-action. I'm sure he thinks Glauca is all he needs, against an old man like me."

Clarus shifted on his knee, as he supposed enough time had passed for the cloth's moisture to loosen the stick of Safay's lashes.

"Lean into it," Clarus instructed quietly.

The general used the shield's steady hand as his own, to rub his eyes and test that he could blink freely. In the dimmed cell, Safay lifted his violet eyes. A blurred look at the King of Lucis' poker face, through a flash-blind filter of yellow and orange haze from the lights' glare through his eyelids that lingered in his vision, was the first thing he'd seen in forty-nine days.

"Am I supposed to feel jealous over being replaced?" Safay asked. "By someone who's always outranked me?"

"I would think that you'd feel betrayed," Regis answered, "by a government that's already laid a wreath for absent remains; already painted your name on their ships, in memorial. Done. Dusted. Buried."

Safay gave a silent sigh, and looked aside.

"You know, I'd almost say that they don't deserve you," Regis remarked. "Why won't you abandon them, in return?"

Safay looked from the wall to the floor.

"Who are you protecting?" Regis finally asked. He didn't need Clarus' subtle relay to catch the instant when the general had stopped breathing.

"Certainly, not the Emperor nor the Chancellor, who have no interest in protecting you?"

"No," Safay admitted.

"Would you avenge yourself against them, if I gave you that opportunity?"

"No."

Regis could practically see the general's stomach drop, at the thought.

"Should our efforts to defend Insomnia fail," Regis supposed, "who would they punish, for _your_ defiance?"

A tear of stress rolled down the general's cheek. Regis felt his resolve waver. He knew these answers; the general didn't know that he knew. It was dreadfully temping to drop his leverage, and let this suffering creature relax.

"You seemed interested in the Oracle," Regis ultimately settled on.

Safay's mind screamed, at how close the Lucian was to the truth. What would Regis do, if he guessed it? What could Safay do, as he roasted, over and over again, to stop him? He could lie? Yes. He had to. Misdirection. Regis couldn't possibly harm the Oracle, and get away with it.

"So what, if I am?" Safay challenged, as his voice shook. "Isn't everyone?"

"Hmm. She... or her brother?"

Safay's already bent posture sagged.

"Anything I can tell you is outdated!" Safay barked out. "I'm useless to whatever the fuck the Emperor has planned, alright?! Whoever told you I was supposed to be looking for holes in your fences, they were right! I don't know why the fuck that was ever a mission! I don't know why the fuck it was me! I never ask! I don't _care!_ I do what I'm told, so I can go home!"

"Where a Prince Charming is waiting?" Regis asked. "Is that what you're so eager to return to?"

The general sniffed harshly, and trembled.

"What do you suppose has become of that home, in these weeks that you've been 'dead'?"

Safay's skin crawled at the sound of the pained squeak that left his throat.

" _Must_ I threaten Ravus, for you to answer to me?" Regis asked bluntly. "Is that truly the only negotiation that you know?"

"I don't know what you're talking about," Safay denied, with a voice that was breaking.

"Oh, I'm positive that you do," Regis replied. He pulled his phone from his breast pocket. His thumb tapped and swiped with a rapid determination. "Astrals above me, the two of you are a pair..."

Regis tapped a file, to start it. A split second of Ravus' voice came out of the device.

_"--it's indefensible. The Oracle's faithful would--"_

Safay gasped, unable to stop himself.

"No, that came later," Regis thought aloud to himself, as he scrolled the file back to an earlier timestamp. It occurred to him what he was about to play, and he looked up to the two Lucian soldiers.

"Clarus," Regis ordered, "draw a sword. Men? I'll be protected well enough, for a short while. Wait outside the door."

His shield stood, and a flash of blue light made Safay's eyes wince and his pupils contract, as a sword appeared in Clarus' hand. The officers left as instructed, and closed the door behind them. Regis turned his attention from his phone to his prisoner.

"I'd intended to record his candid regard for his sister, without his imperial facade," he explained, "to pass on to the Oracle, while she's here. What I got was something else, entirely. I had it recording in my breast pocket, so there's no video to be had, but I trust that you know the voice of a young man who loves you."

Safay sat back on his heels, as Regis replayed the conversation in Ravus' suite, through the Deputy High Commander's near-wails of anguish over the loss of his lover.

It took a long moment for Safay to control himself enough to not weep as he tried to speak.

"W-when was this?"

"Some time ago," Regis answered, vaguely. "As of now, General, he's safe."

"... For how long?"

Regis lifted the phone in his hand, to gesture. "Child, did I sound like a man who would harm him, to get information that I don't need, out of you?"

"I'm not a child," Safay protested.

"The two of you are very much as children," Regis argued. "Having to grow up so quickly to survive among the adults has stunted you both. You've had no real transition. There's the child and the adult, with no progressive maturing in between."

Regis made his shield's short-cropped hair go whiter, as he slowly knelt down on his good knee, before the prisoner.

"Safay," Regis began, with hope that his first use of the general's given name held some level of sincerity, "you've been down here for almost fifty days, because you won't put the Empire in danger, if that meant Ravus being in danger, as well?"

The general merely stared at him, looking him over for a hint of a trap.

"What do you want?" Safay whispered.

"All the help that I can get," Regis told him again. "I've trusted Clarus with my life for decades, and tomorrow shall be no different. But where one man might defeat Glauca yet die trying, two may defeat him, so both can live. I'm in grave need of someone who knows how Nif tricks work. What to expect, how to stop it."

"I can't," Safay's voice croaked. "If you don't kill Ravus, Ardyn _will_. That's probably the only reason he ever let us be together, so he'd have a knife at Ravus' throat, the first time I failed. I've... I've stayed down here, because I can't go back. They'll hurt him because _I_   fucked up."

Regis looked to the floor, then back into his prisoner's strange violet eyes. "Safay, he's in Insomnia. He'd never allow his sister to be handed off like a gold watch at a retirement party, without being here, trying to protect her. Not when he knows that there's going to be an attack, and she's going to be in the middle of it."

"He believes that you're dead," Regis reminded the general. "If you try to find him before Niflheim has been subdued, it's going to distract you both. He _will_ be in danger, if he can't focus on anything but you. You cannot go to him, until this is over."

Glumly, Safay nodded in understanding.

"What am I supposed to do, though, from here?"

"Clarus," Regis called. "Tell the soldiers to come back, and release the General. Have one of them go and bring a set of clothes."

"Reggie," Clarus protested, "Ravus was one matter, but this--"

"What is our alternative?" Regis challenged. "Safay is correct, that there's nothing more he can tell us. Are we to leave him here, to be tortured, until he succumbs? Or do we show mercy to an ally's partner, who's more than paid their civic debt for trespassing?"

"Old friend," Regis spoke gently, "We have another skilled soldier, here, in this room. We need him far more outside of it, than left within it."

A growl beneath his breath, Clarus compromised by backing to the door without looking away from the prisoner. He called in the soldiers to relay Regis' orders, and within five minutes, Safay could move his limbs again.

 _Could_ , but had to do a great deal of slow negotiation with them. Joints and vertebrae popped continuously, as he straightened. His leg muscles protested at being stretched for the first time in over a month. Safay hoped that one night of pacing in a new cell and being able to lie flat on its bunk would be enough to get his body back into a fighting condition. He supposed, ruefully, that he didn't need to be at his best. He only needed to do well enough to be told where to find Ravus.

Safay's balance was wobbly as he stepped into the legs of a pair of orange prison fatigue pants. The general shot a glare at the soldier closest to him, and gave a pointed tug on the pants' elasticized waist as he covered his rear to signal that all free peep shows were over.

It crossed Safay's mind that his favored sword was long enough that, were he to summon it now, he could slaughter all four of these men, and run. He sighed, and slowly pulled on a loose shirt that matched the pants, instead. He wasn't limber enough yet to be certain that he could succeed, with one spin. He was under-nourished and couldn't swear to himself that he'd have the strength. Worst of all, Regis had all but promised that Ravus wouldn't be harmed, but Safay had no such assurances from anyone else in the Citadel who would likely be upset to find their king cut in half. It was a moment's fantasy, and one that he'd have to let pass, unfulfilled.

Should Safay ever find these specific soldiers away from a security camera, however... well, that would prove to be a different matter. He doubted that they'd be missed as much as their king.

"Does he have personal affects?" Regis asked of the soldiers.

"No, Majesty," one replied. "Everything had to be cut away, to keep... _it_... restrained."

 _"'Him',"_ Safay corrected, clearly enough to reverberate around the stone-walled cell. "I don't give a fuck what anyone thinks they saw."

"More like _didn't_ see," the second soldier scoffed quietly. But not quietly enough.

Safay found the strength and speed to pivot on the ball of his right foot, and have his left fist land a hard blow on the soldier's jaw. He felt a bone break. It wasn't his.

The first soldier drew up his gun and aimed it at the right of Safay's back. Regis summoned a massive shield from his armiger and shoved it between Safay and the rifle's muzzle. Clarus was faster, and his already drawn broadsword moved in a swift upward arc to knock the barrel towards the ceiling with the weight of the steel, then sheer it off from the rifle with the finely honed edge.

 _"Enough!"_ Regis' voice boomed.

Safay expected a yell to remember his priorities and his place as a prisoner of Lucis, but found Regis wasn't looking at him.

"This _man_ may be a prisoner," Regis snarled at the soldier with half a rifle, "may be a Nif, but he is still a general. I just ordered him released, and that's an invitation to show such disrespect, is it?" He didn't wait for an answer, and pointed to the dazed soldier on the floor. "Heal him. I can see that this will just happen again, if the general is left in a higher level cell. We shall find other arrangements, on the way to my office."

\---------------

"Has your unwitting protege been apprised of your plans for him, Your Radiance?"

Iedolas turned his head toward the voice's source, and found his chancellor as Ardyn matched his strides and joined his walk through the hallway, to an elevator.

"I'm simply dying to know, how he took the news?" Ardyn inquired.

"I'm certain the commander appreciates the gravity of his newfound situation," Iedolas teased.

The two said nothing else, until they were enclosed within the elevator's car. The Lucian mechanics worked smoothly, swiftly, but getting all the way to the Citadel's roof for the reception would nevertheless leave them with a private moment to speak.

"Ravus understood the proposal well enough to know not to rush to accept it," Iedolas continued.

"Surprising," Ardyn admitted. "Whatever his motivations, I'd have assumed him to be more... ambitious."

"As did I," Iedolas agreed. "Although, we don't yet know that he isn't. A Tenebraean royal hasn't exactly been welcomed warmly into an army of Nif peasants and nobles. It's possible that he never assumed that there was any higher that he could climb."

"Possible," Ardyn granted. His tone, however, didn't mask his doubt. "His exemplary record should indicate a fine candidate for succession. I'm only curious as to how much of that service has been loyalty to the Empire, and how much may be simply speaking the lines that he thinks you want to hear, Your Radiance."

"Yes," Iedolas said. "But, I suspect that we shall have our answers on that matter, soon enough."

"Oh?" Ardyn pressed.

"I've had people sniffing around the Citadel," Iedolas said. "Prince Noctis is nowhere to be found. A hand in Regis' motor pool has said that he left Insomnia, earlier today, already on his way to await Lady Lunafreya in Altissia. Taking care of the son will have to wait until after we've first seen to the father."

"An extra errand, perhaps, but not an obstacle," Ardyn assured him.

"Hm. But, while I'm certain that Ravus would revel in the opportunity to free Regis' head from his shoulders, we'll see where his loyalties lie, when it's time to dispatch his sister's. If we can do away with her along with Regis, at the signing, Ravus will be there to watch it; if he does nothing to stop it, his loyalties will be clear. If the Oracle were to somehow escape, it will be Ravus' duty to bring her back to Gralea for execution, or execute her, himself."

"If he can do that," Iedolas concluded, "he can rule an empire."

"And if he cannot..." Ardyn led.

"Then, he will watch her die, before he joins her," Iedolas nodded, "and my hands will be washed of any family line that could challenge my throne. My preference for my successor is a man of royal blood, but I would sooner install a peasant at random than suffer a royal who will subvert my wishes, as soon as I'm in the ground. And should Verstael's work be perfected in time, I won't require an heir from outside my bloodline, at all, and the boy will be just another spark of resistance to be snuffed."

"Most excellent planning, Your Radiance," Ardyn grinned. "No matter which of those futures comes to pass, the very possibility of going from nothing but a shadow behind the Oracle, to becoming Emperor of all Eos will keep him enthralled and in line, until you've decided his fate."

"I should certainly hope so," Iedolas chuckled. "Ah, and what a blessing it's been to that end, that you've disposed of that ghoulish mongrel of a general. A needed hardening of the commander's mettle, and one less distraction from his orders."

"It was, frankly, a pleasure, Your Radiance," Ardyn said, hand to his chest as he offered a short bow.

The car slowed as it approached the top of the shaft. The doors opened, and Iedolas stepped out into a rooftop garden party laden with socialites who wanted his favor and politicians who wanted him to 'accidentally' fall over the railing. Just the sort of mix that Iedolas found most amusing.

Ardyn lingered behind him by many steps, his own pace a casual amble; he lingered also on the thought of the soldiers who worked their captive over for information, far beneath the Citadel's floor.

"Don't be too kind, boys," Ardyn murmured to himself with a grin.

\---------------

If the entire evening of stress and scrambling had one bright spot for Regis, he'd have decided it was the look on Cor's face, as the marshal passed through the door to the king's office and all color drained from him. Cor was apparently much more learned about Niflheim's military by sight than Regis had been, and to find one of their prized generals, clad in orange prison garb and posture melted into the soft luxury of a well-upholstered wing-backed chair, was not something he'd expected.

Safay offered Cor a lazy, not-exactly-harmless grin, and held up wrists that bore standard-issue handcuffs.

"Those won't hold him," Cor warned immediately, with a swing of his arm to point to the restraints.

Regis merely gave a tilt of his head in consideration.

"They may, for a couple more hours, at the least."

"Shh," Safay chided the marshal, and dropped his hands back into his lap. "Don't spoil the trick for others."

"Precisely what 'trick' is this?" Cor demanded. It dawned on him that only he seemed to be surprised by the general's presence. Cor hastily found his decorum. "... Majesty?"

"A sleight of hand, to save Insomnia," Regis told him. "We've received intelligence of an invasion. Tomorrow, at the signing. We know numbers, ships, arsenal. General Safay is here as a strategist, and as an additional sword."

"... For Insomnia?" Cor openly doubted.

"Yes," Regis assured him. "There are better uses of our short time to prepare, then wasting it on inconsequential details that can be explained at length, afterward. When we have prevailed, I promise you, I'll answer anything that hasn't been made clear to you. Just know that the general's terms of release are binding, and he _will_ honor them."

"I find it very hard to trust that a general would just desert his army--"

"They deserted me first," Safay supplied casually. "Possibly, under orders. It doesn't matter. After tomorrow, they'll no longer possess the only thing they had that I want."

It wasn't enough of an answer to satisfy Cor's trust, but Regis' calmness and conviction were. Cor straightened and clasped his hands behind his back.

"What does my king need of me?" he relinquished.

"The best soldiers Insomnia has to offer." Regis leaned back, with a soft creak of his chair's leather padding. "Not only excellent in their skills, but in their loyalty. If not to the crown, then to their city, and its safety."

"Shouldn't Drautos be here, then?" Cor asked. "The Kingsglaive should fit that need, to a T."

"Drautos...?" Safay repeated with a chill. "Why would...?"

Safay slowly drew his feet up onto the chair's seat, and wrapped his arms around his knees. His look to Regis for an answer was disturbed, to say the least.

"He _is_ a Nif officer, then?" Regis asked in response, although he took the surprise as more evidence that Ravus had been telling them the truth. "He's been to Four Down?"

"I thought I must've dreamed that," Safay said, quietly. "Or I was delusional, one. I didn't see him, couldn't see anything, but _I heard_..."

"Cor, Drautos is a double agent," Regis informed him, with a heavy breath.

"Regis, please," Cor replied, "if you're taking this turncoat's word against Titus' loyalties..."

"I am not," Regis stated plainly. "This has been a chance discovery, amid other information. But, I consider it twice confirmed. No one would like to hear that it's a misunderstanding more than I, but we cannot risk the city, over denial born of our fondness. Drautos cannot be privy to these talks, no matter what. Neither can we enlist the Kingsglaive, before we know how much influence he has over them."

"And so, I need Insomnia's best soldiers, Cor. Thirty should be enough; fifty would be better. The signing will take place in the drafting hall, as usual. Have your soldiers inside of the Citadel, close by, but out of sight. As soon as the hall fills, they're to enter and surround the attendees. All of them. All of _us_. Rifles drawn and ready. Anyone makes a move against Clarus or myself, shoot them. Even Iedolas. Aim for limbs and live prisoners, but I will pardon an unavoidable fatality."

"Understood." Cor closed his eyes through a slow bow of his head. "Forgive my curiosity, Majesty, but, er... where do you intend to hide someone so recognizable to Iedolas' envoy?"

"In plain sight," Regis said, "under the hood of a Glaive uniform. Once the general rises tomorrow, he shall not leave Clarus' sights. There will be no opportunity to speak to any of the envoy. Clarus will be at my right; Safay, at my left, a step or two back. It's probably a lost cause, to disguise his height, but he need only look unremarkable from any other Glaive."

"Will he be armed?" Cor asked.

Safay glanced to the marshal. He held his left hand out from his knees and spread his fingers. A flash of red light, so bright that it was nearly pink, lit up the office and left Safay's favored sword in his grip. An ancient-looking katana, with a seven-foot blade.

\---

Before his reflection in a wall of glass, Chancellor Izunia had removed his hat to run a hand back through his ever-disheveled auburn hair. His arm stopped, halfway from putting his hat back in place.

"Is something the matter, Chancellor?" a woman in her forties asked, from behind him. A valet, assigned to see to the comforts of the reception's guests.

"I can't say, really," Ardyn mused. His eyes narrowed and shifted, as he sought to identify a feeling more than a sight. "It was a fleeting moment's sensation, as though someone's just been rifling through my things."

"Not to worry, sir," the valet tried to reassure him. "I can have security perform a sweep around your quarters, if you wish, but the only staff allowed high enough into the towers to reach dignitaries' chambers have been heavily vetted. The Citadel does not tolerate thieves."

As soon as the feeling has dissipated, it arose again, and just as quickly vanished. Whatever had been taken from his armiger had been returned; a sequence too short, to take stock of whatever may have been missing.

There was, however, a rather short list of possibilities. Commodore Highwind wasn't along on this mission, but that wouldn't prevent her from accessing her lance from the armiger. She never gave it up so easily, though, and preferred to keep it in hand for a while, once she was through with its use. Iedolas had never shown evidence that he'd noticed Ardyn's mystical bag of holding, and Ardyn had never felt the need to tell him.

Glauca was a candidate. Perhaps he'd drawn his sword, but had to release it before he was seen.

Of course, one other, who was most definitely in the area, could have been responsible. For the whole time he'd been 'missing', General Safay had never drawn a weapon from the armiger. If he had, just now? _Well._ Ardyn donned his hat, with a lopsided smirk. It either meant that the lab rat had finally had enough and had decided to hack his way to freedom, or that he'd tried to, and a well-placed boot to his side, or perhaps to his head, had broken his concentration.

If that were indeed his culprit, Ardyn supposed that he'd find out which events had transpired, if the guards began to gossip about a prisoner being stomped, or if the reception itself was cut short due to an escape and a lockdown.

"How heartening," he remarked aloud.

\---

"Yes," Safay answered the marshal, before immediately releasing the sword back to wherever he'd drawn it from. The sword was gone before the blue light had faded, from Regis' armiger leaving Clarus' broadsword in the shield's hands.

"How long have you been able to do that?" Clarus demanded.

"Whose magic is that?" Regis overruled.

"Ardyn's," Safay supplied. "He allows the highest ranks to store a weapon... well, _somewhere_. But we don't have to carry them, or surrender them to get in somewhere. Hey, you can ask Clarus, right? He does it, too."

"He uses _my_ magic, yes," Regis answered. "But it's not an ability anyone but those of the Lucis Caelum line are known to have."

"So... weird?" Safay surmised.

"Very." Regis rubbed his eyes with one hand, and let it stroke down his short beard. "This blasted mess gets more complicated by the minute. Safay, exactly who has access to his armiger?"

Safay drew a deep breath as he thought. "Me, Glauca, Aranea... maybe her two seconds, I don't know... well, Ardyn... That's all I know of. It's not a lot of us."

"Not Ravus?" Regis asked.

"No," Safay said, and shook his head. "No, Ravus keeps his sword in a scabbard, on his belts, like the brigadiers do. They're usually all 'oh, magic is a Lucian crutch', or some such stupidity. When Ravus can't have his sword, he has a dagger, up..." Safay merely gestured back and forth, just below his collar bone and at a slight tilt.

"And not Iedolas?"

Safay pushed a puff of breath past his lips as he thought again. "If he can, I've never seen him do it."

"No other Nifs inside the Citadel?"

"I wouldn't know who's all here."

"Yes, of course," Regis nodded. "I suppose that's the best information on the matter we can hope to get, tonight."

"How can we be certain of that?" Cor asked, directly to the general.

"Because I want my prince back," Safay spoke, slowly and clearly. _"Alive."_

"He's an ally, General," Regis chided. "Calm yourself. No one here has any interest in harming Ravus."

A tiny yellow light blinked to life on Regis' desk, at the front of an elaborately carved inkwell, where it could only be seen by someone sitting in his chair. A light that was triggered from just within a hidden passageway, that indicated someone there who wished to enter. Regis tapped a hidden button on the inside trim of the desk's leg well twice, then held it down for a couple of seconds; a return signal that the passage's lock was released, but to remain silent. A case thick with books and a large, framed painting above it moved slightly, behind Clarus. The king groaned, and pushed up from his chair.

"It's about time for people to start filtering in to Iedolas' reception," Regis noted. "Clarus and I still have a few moments to prepare, then we'll be expected, ourselves. Cor? Go, select your soldiers, please. If you can, walk your commanders, only a few at a time, through their positions for tomorrow. Space out the rounds. Make it look casual; common."

"As you wish, Majesty," he bowed, and left the office.

"Safay," Regis addressed, "can you recall the passage routes we took to get here, to get back to your room?"

"Yeah," the general nodded. He forced himself up onto his feet, and followed Regis' open glance over the unlocked passage, where a Glaive was now standing with a hand still on the bookcase.

"Go, then," Regis instructed. "I'll send a guard to check in with you, once I'm off to the reception, so I'm afraid you'll have no time for sight-seeing. The passage will be locked, once you're confirmed inside. You may call to the kitchens for food, but you may not leave. Stretch, rest, whatever you like, in your room, until morning. Understood?"

"Yeah," Safay assured him again. He gave little more than a tug on each of his handcuffs, and sheared the latches open. The cuffs' remnants were dropped down on the vacated chair's seat. "You know I have to behave."

"I do, indeed," Regis said. "It's surprising, that you made it up to general, with such a lack of manners."

"You're a king," Safay said simply, "but you aren't _my_ king."

Despite himself, Regis allowed a smile of amusement. "I hope there's to be a day when Tenebrae will know your devotion, openly. Dismissed."

Safay's movements were still stiff as he turned and headed for the passage. Faking improvement had gotten easier. Hopefully, real progress would follow, with the suggested stretches. A soak in hot water would be helpful, but the thought of subjecting himself to further intense heat on purpose was not a pleasant one.

The Glaive's eyes followed the general, as he ducked to fit through the opening and faded into the passage's shadows. Nyx's brows knit, puzzled by the prisoner attire, but Regis' voice brought his attention back.

"Nyx," Regis acknowledge, and beckoned with a wave of his hand. "Enter."

The passage's cover closed and clicked as the lock reset. The Glaive approached the desk quickly, and stopped with a bow from the waist.

"Have you updated Lord Ravus on our plans for the signing?" Regis asked, in conspiratorial quiet, despite confidence in his own office's securities.

"I... did not have the chance, Your Majesty," Nyx admitted. "I walked in on a conversation. I think you should know."

\---------------


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Morning, among other things, has broken.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had previously posted the first 1/4 of this chapter as a shorter stand-alone chapter, but in completing the rest, a part of that post had to be moved. Only by one segment, but it still made putting the rest in a new chapter unworkable. SO, this is re-posting of chapter two, with 70% new text added, as well as some small and not small changes to what was previously posted. Whoops.
> 
> Please note updated tags, just in case.
> 
> Also, word count is somewhere around 16,000. Whoops again.

Thigh upon the stone window sill, arms crossed, forehead against the glass, Ravus looked down over the city of Insomnia, and out over the sea beyond its Wall. Throughout the night, there had been no visible trace of the lights of the Nif fleet waiting just beyond the horizon. Nothing to arouse suspicion. With the sun beginning to rise, those ships would have the cover needed to edge closer. Not by much, perhaps, but they'd close the distance to Insomnia quickly enough, once Iedolas gave them his signal.

Without Ravus' breakdown, Insomnia wouldn't have been able to detect them, until they were already full speed ahead. That should have made him feel pleased with himself, to be useful in a way that mattered, instead of simply for someone else's convenience, but it was far too soon for self-congratulations. He could only hope that warning Regis of the looming invasion hadn't somehow made matters worse than if Insomnia had had no chance to prepare at all. For as hard as it was to imagine how that could be, it was easy to imagine the Astrals finding a way, just to remind Ravus of how impotent he was to change fate.

The Six had already sent a reminder, in the form of a Glaive who'd overheard anything at all of Iedolas' offer of the Imperial throne. No doubt, Regis had been told of whatever had been overheard. Any of the proposal could pull Insomnia's support and trust out from under Ravus' feet. That the Glaive hadn't returned to brief him on updates, as agreed, didn't leave Ravus with much hope.

What had he done, or not done, to deserve the Astrals' hate in this way? As a boy, had he not been devout? Had he not sworn himself to Lunafreya's protection? Weren't the Astrals the ones who had abandoned his mother to her death? If protecting Sylva had been his charge, couldn't that accursed Gentiana have even once warned him? Why continue to punish a man for what a boy had no way of knowing? Why not just let him die, in that flame-scorched glen, if he'd failed so badly?

Answers didn't come, and left Ravus feeling little more than weary, angry, and hollow.

The weariness had won out at some point as the morning light climbed Insomnia's wall. Ravus has closed his eyes merely to blink, but hadn't managed to drag them open again. How he'd gotten comfortable enough in his position, he'd never know. Not that it had lasted all that long.

Time had passed. That much, he could tell. Not a lot of time, perhaps, but enough to have lost track of some apparently crucial minutes of awareness. It felt as though he'd no sooner closed his eyes, then a hard, strong hand had grasped the front of his coat, at the near-diamond-shaped cut-out around the base of his neck. Easy, ready strength had yanked Ravus upright onto his feet, and turned to slam his back against the wall of the short hallway that led from the parlor to his suite's bedroom.

The back of Ravus' head had surely hit the plaster with enough force to leave an indentation. He growled a curse in his throat that never made it past his lips as a full word.

"Troubled sleep?" asked a gruff voice at the other end of the strong arm. The words were pleasant enough, but there was no friendliness behind them.

Ravus' eyes wanted very much to remain closed, but he forced them open. Drautos looked back at him, as unamused as ever. The deputy high commander sought out every ounce of irritation that he could muster, to cover his want to panic.

"I'm certain you can understand my stress of not wanting to fuck up a once-in-a-lifetime chance," Ravus hissed. He had the time and stillness to send his right hand behind his head. The plaster crater was a lost cause, but at least his scalp wasn't bleeding. His day ahead might not be long enough for him to ever notice the bruise that was sure to follow.

"A proper warrior would've found a more restful and less vulnerable position, to recharge himself," Drautos critiqued.

"Doubtless," Ravus granted, "but then, over the years, you have made it abundantly clear that I am _not_ a proper warrior."

At that, Drautos smirked.

"It's nice to see that you've learned something, through all these years," he said.

"To what do I owe this intrusion?" Ravus asked.

Drautos' hand moved from the edge of his coat to grasp around Ravus' jaw. It was not a gentle motion.

"His Radiance wanted a few assurances," Drautos said. "That you'd obeyed you orders and stayed put all night, for one. Glad that I can tell him that even you can't mess that one up."

"An honor, surely," Ravus growled. He yanked his head away as Drautos released his grip. "What of the other assurances?"

"Hmm?" Drautos replied, with a wholly feigned distraction. "Oh, that you'd be at the signing, on time and prepared. Not sure what good you'll be, when you couldn't control your nerves enough to sleep well, but you'll be there. The rest? I don't think those are for you to worry about. I'll report them, when I see them."

"I'm being tested, am I?" Ravus presumed, indignantly.

Before him, still close enough that Ravus couldn't bring his left arm around to straighten the hang of his coat without his sleeve brushing against the captain's chest, Drautos gave a sideways tilt of his head in lieu of a shrug.

"I never said the rest of the emperor's assurances were about you," Drautos answered. He turned and walked off for the front door. A little past halfway there, he paused, and looked back to Ravus. "But, if you want to assume that there's something about your allegiance to be doubted..."

Drautos left the suit with a slam of the main door, and left behind an incensed deputy high commander.

A heat built in Ravus' chest. Renewed anger, at three different men who were all the same breed of bastard, playing the same game of leverage with his life. Regis and his sister, Iedolas and his homeland, and now, Drautos and his reputation. Why was it such a damned crime for anyone to have the compassion to leave him room to breathe? How much more armor could he erect around himself, before he could no longer move at all?

The need to scream built up rapidly in his very core. Ravus had the sense to hold it in. As thick as the Citadel's walls were, _his_ scream would be the one that would be heard and start some unneeded commotion. Ravus turned in place and sought out the closest, shiniest object, instead. A vase with no flowers. Black and indistinguishable from anything else in the parlor. Perfect.

Within a heartbeat, it was shattered half to dust from a direct hit against the corner of the small foyer's archway. It was no cure for his rage, but it had felt good. Cathartic, to destroy something that belonged to Regis, regardless of how ultimately meaningless a single vase was to the king.

Ravus growled out a heavy breath and pulled his hands down his face. He only had to endure this pressure from all sides for a few hours more. Then, all three sides of that pressure would be dead by his hand. _He_ would be dead, if nothing else.

He wanted to tell himself that Lunafreya was a perfectly capable young woman, and could see to her own freedom, if she truly wanted to; that she'd be fine without him, if he were to just step out of his tower window and end his own torment now. He couldn't make himself believe it. An eternity of regret over not at least trying everything he possibly could to secure his sister's freedom managed to be a worse prospect than his straitjacket of pretending. What good was oblivion, if it was spent restless, shunned by the very loved ones he so desperately wanted to rejoin?

Gods, he needed to think about something else. Anything else. Be any _where_ else. He'd stayed in his suite all night. He'd stayed away from the reception. Iedolas could just die mad about it, if Ravus needed fresh air and a change of scenery.

Ravus turned for the main door, and looked over the vase's remains to rekindle the small sense of satisfaction.

Then noticed that in the middle of the archway, where the sofa had blocked the floor from view from his position at the window, there was an oddly large piece of black, intact. It was over half the full size of the vase that he'd pulverized. A piece that big shouldn't exist.

Nor... should it be embossed with the treads of a boot's sole.

Slowly, Ravus crossed the parlor floor, to for a better look at the object. It kept getting larger.

All at once, Ravus realized that his suite's doorman hadn't announced Drautos' entry, and hadn't handled the door when the captain left. He couldn't have. He was very much dead.

It figured, really. The guard had seen Drautos, the godsdamned captain of the Kingsglaive, and just... let him in. Why wouldn't he? And then, his throat's solidity had paid the price for that trust.

Oh, godsdamn it, it really did figure-- _HE_   was going to be blamed for this. How easy would it be, for Drautos to lie that the doorman was murdered to keep him quiet about Iedolas' visit, the night before? Who would believe, who would _know_ , that Drautos had even been to Ravus' suite?

Ravus made the few steps further over to a phone on an ornate, dark wood table before he consciously thought of what to do. He scanned the pre-set buttons as he picked up the receiver, and found "security" rather clearly marked at the bottom. A couple of eternal seconds, and a woman's voice answered.

"Commander?" she greeted, alert with concern.

Thanks the Astrals for Lucian switchboards, Ravus offered silently, as he realized he couldn't get his thoughts together enough to remember which floor he was on.

"I need someone here at once," he stammered. "The guard at my door, he's been killed."

* * *

 

Down a narrow hall by an elevator, Drautos leaned his back to the level wall that separated two inset, carved panels. The small radio receiver in his hand fed a rapid audio relay of orders and information into his wireless earpiece. Reports of a death, among the Nif dignitaries' suites. Imagine that.

It was unfortunate, he supposed, in a line of thought that had nothing to do with the slain guard. Drautos would not be able to give Iedolas one of the reassurances that the Emperor sought. An officer whose priorities were his emperor's priorities would not stop to report the death of a guard whose government was about to be overthrown.

It wasn't long before running footsteps reached Drautos' free ear. They neared the hall in seconds and sped past, just as quickly. Only three guards. That seemed sensible, to keep any questions down among staff and guests. It wasn't like they were going to encounter the same danger that had killed their comrade, after all. Not yet.

Cor's voice came over the encoded channel, and caught the captain's attention. The marshal was rather busy this morning, in preparation for the treaty's signing, but for the sudden appearance of a murder, he'd make the time for a personal inspection of the scene.

That was Drautos' cue to move on, he supposed. There was nothing to tie him to the commander's suite--even security's footage of the hall outside of the door would mysteriously be found to be missing, thanks to a couple of small, unplugged wires--but all the same, Drautos would rather have been away from the spectacle. The palace guards would want his input. Cor would want the same. It would all take time, and it wasn't wise to keep the Emperor waiting.

With a brisk pace and light steps, Drautos left his crevice and placed more distance between himself and the aftermath of his work.

* * *

 

"Your Highness?"

Lunafreya looked up from her morning tea, to the doorman of her suite. The familiar clack of Imperial rifles followed his words immediately, as the guards that held them lifted the guns up to a ready position.

The Oracle was not a woman prone to violence, at her worst, but she surely would've felt a great deal of satisfaction to be able to push those two out of her suite's tower window. The ground would prove to be their enemy; she'd have only been the one to make their introduction.

"Yes?" she acknowledged.

"His Majesty, King Regis, requests if you're well to accept his visit?"

"Oh!" Lunafreya exclaimed softly, while a drop of tea escaped down the center of her lip. She dabbed it away quickly, set down her cup, and stood from the parlor's tufted loveseat. "Yes, of course. Please, show His Majesty in."

The doorman gave a nod through a slight bow, and turned back for the entry.

Clarus entered first, and turned to keep watch over the pair of Nif guards, as Regis entered and continued in, closer to Lunafreya.

The guards kept their rifles at the ready, the barrels casually homed in on the Lucian king. If they had any thought to fire, it was put on permanent hold at the sound of a third rifle and a pistol, that cocked into active duty behind them.

"Let's not do anything stupid, boys," the first of two Kingsglaive warned, his handgun trained on the guard to his right. "There's a lady present."

The Glaive's hood was pushed back and revealed ruddy brown hair, brushed back and cropped closely at the sides of his head. Small braids and an even smaller tattoo beneath his eye looked Galahdian. The second Glaive, with the rifle, was remarkably taller, with a physique that seemed packed into their uniform's fabric. This one didn't remove their hood and mask.

The brunet Glaive backed up to close the door, and with the advantage, both relieved the Nif guards of their weapons.

"I pray you'll forgive this rude intrusion," Regis directed to the Oracle, "but I suspected that Iedolas would not have left you to your complete privacy."

"As he has not, for many years," Lunafreya said. "It was only sensible to assume as much, Your Majesty."

"And please, excuse our brash manners," Regis added. He turned his head to address his Glaives. "Are they secured?"

"Yes, indeed, Majesty," the brunet answered, rather cheerfully, above the sounds of handcuffs ratcheting tightly around the guards' wrists.

"Sleep potions, then," Regis instructed. "Lock them in the guestroom's closet. Security will collect them, soon enough."

"The Citadel is certainly full-service, if it includes a rescue with one's breakfast," Lunafreya remarked.

"My dear princess," Regis began again, "this is not exactly a jailbreak--not yet--but if you will permit me to explain the information that's come to me, it could nevertheless spell your freedom."

"If you trust in the security of your palace, then certainly," Lunafreya invited. "What such information could there be?"

"We are entering a most dangerous day, Your Highness," Regis told her. "There will be some attempt made upon seizing the ring and the Crystal. Iedolas, himself, may attempt an assassination. I don't yet know that it can all be thwarted, but Insomnia will meet force with force, and will not be caught unawares."

"That would be quite a bold assault," Lunafreya said. "Would that not destroy Insomnia's defenses, to take the Crystal?"

"It would, indeed," Regis nodded. He lowered to an armless chair across from the loveseat, with a gesture to invite the Oracle to make herself more comfortable, as well. "The only way such a massive stone could be wrenched from the throne room is through the strength and force of a drop ship. My army is preparing, as we speak, to be ready to shoot down the only one inside of the barrier. That, we may stave off before it can affect our defenses."

"The personal attacks," Regis said, "will remain to be seen. We do, however, have one unexpected ace to play. And it just may draw your brother back from his path of darkness, and back to you, in the light."

"I would not bet my life on that gamble," Lunafreya sighed. "I don't think you appreciate how long he's been feeding his flame of hatred for you, Your Majesty. How the Niflheim court and army have been fanning it, for him. You'd sooner get him to cut off an arm, than side with Insomnia."

"Yesterday, perhaps," Regis said. He wasn't able to fully contain a knowing smile. "I had the occasion to speak with him, and I do believe you'll find that there are two things in Eos that he desires, more than my obituary."

"One of them is your safety," Regis elaborated. "And to that end, I would ask that you be on guard, Your Highness, for any violence that may erupt. If you possibly can, with what you have, wear clothing in which you can climb, shoes in which you can run. If you've any precious objects with you, leave them here. Come Hell or high water, Insomnia shall not fall, and you can return for them. Wear only what would be suspicious, if you were seen without it."

"Above all, Princess: try to stay close to Clarus, to Nyx..." Regis gestured to the brunet Glaive, who now stood at eased attention by the wall, behind Regis' right side, then to his taller compatriot. "Or to... to Saf. He should be rather easy to spot, amid any fracas."

"Indeed," she agreed, and glanced at the as-yet silent Glaive with narrowed eyes. He seemed vaguely familiar, but damned, if she could place why.

"Your future, Lunafreya," Regis said, "is a matter of life and death for the world, and we shall defend it with our lives, if we must."

"I will do as you advise, Your Majesty," Lunafreya nodded, with a heavy breath. Her brows drew together slightly in curiosity. "What is the second thing?"

"That," Regis grinned. "You need only trust me when I say that Ravus will know that we have it, when he sees it."

* * *

 

The deputy high commander had been pacing, when Cor made it to the scene of the murder. Ravus looked at everyone with a forced patience that was on the verge of snapping at any moment; even Cor, when the marshal first approached. At the sound of his name, however, there was recognition, and there was nothing Cor could have asked that the Imperial officer wouldn't have readily answered.

Cor would have been unnerved by the commander's behavior, if not for his briefing from Regis, the night before. The king and the Nif general, cuffed in Regis' office, had spoken of Ravus as a part of Insomnia's counterstrike. It made sense that the officer would be so cooperative. Nevertheless, Cor wasn't certain how much Ravus did or didn't know about Regis' unfolding scheme, and offered no information, himself.

Ravus, for his part, didn't make demands for that information. He was much more concerned, in Cor's judgement, with not being sent to the security sublevel for a statement.

On an ordinary day, that would've set off an alarm for Cor. People who wanted to clear their names of crimes they didn't commit typically didn't all but beg to put off a statement or questioning, while details were fresh in their minds. This day, though, was far from ordinary, and Cor had spent enough years in Regis' service to grasp the complications that could arise. It wouldn't look good on the world stage, if one of Niflheim's highest officers was seen being escorted away by palace security. Why wouldn't matter, to the papers. That could quickly snowball into disgrace within the Empire, for the unintentional embarrassment. From what Cor knew of the former prince, Ravus despised Insomnia enough, as it was, without the hell of being rejected from even his already diminished standing among Eos' royal families.

In the absence of a scandalous misunderstanding, the same outcome to Ravus' reputation with his emperor could come, merely from being late or missing entirely, from the treaty's signing. No, this day was anything but ordinary.

Making it worse, was being told that the last time Ravus had seen the guard alive was before his rude awakening from Drautos. Cor was already in a painfully awkward spot to have learned that the captain was a double agent. In such a light, he could easily see Drautos cutting down the same men who trusted and respected him. Ravus' conclusion was that Drautos must've committed the murder when he'd entered, and the professional in Cor, with the evidence at hand, had to agree.

If it was a mistake, if Ravus was simply an impeccable actor, there was an easy enough way to find out. Cor need only find Drautos, to confirm or deny. The Commander, Cor was certain, would not be difficult to capture before he could leave with the rest of the Imperials. And, of course, if there was to be a fight for Insomnia's life, the apprehension would seriously pale, in comparison.

“It's in security's hands now,” the marshal said, ultimately. “There's really nothing you can do to help their work along here, Commander. Go, clear your head, do what you need. We'll handle this.”

Ravus hadn't needed to be told twice, and took his leave immediately. His rush, however, was over as soon as he'd passed through the door, and became an aimless stroll towards the the treaty's eventual vicinity. The very portrait of a man overwhelmed and in need to calm his thoughts. Cor took it as further proof that his options held steady. Any worry that he'd just let a foreign agent get away with the murder of a Lucian citizen would be unnecessary later, whether through exoneration or capture.

At least, as far as Ravus was involved in that worry.

* * *

 

It shouldn't have surprised the captain, to have been confronted. It was bound to happen, if he hadn't left the palace. In an unremarkable side hall, not far from the captain's office but distant enough for conservation to go unheard by Kingsglaive preparing to defend their adopted hearth and home, it did. Drautos didn't, however, expect it to have come as soon as it had. The king's marshal must've been alerted immediately. The Emperor's poor choice of deputy high commander, just as readily, must have coughed up the name of the only person— _live_ person—who'd been in the parlor with him.

Cor was certainly not allowing an event with global ramifications to distract him from any of his regular duties on hand.

"Why did you have to kill a guard, Titus?" Cor demanded. No segue, no preamble. For a matter this serious, Drautos would've been disappointed in him, if there had been.

"As a test of loyalty," Drautos said, as if it were a rote training course.

"What, to see if he'd disobey rules for you, or fight to keep you out?" Cor asked. The lack of any play at denial made his heart sink. If Ravus wasn't lying about this, then that didn't bode well for the intel of double agency to have been mistaken.

"Hmph. Not for the guard. For Ravus," Drautos corrected. "He failed."

"What the hell are you talking about?" Cor asked.

"Ravus didn't want it pinned on _him,"_ Drautos' voice rumbled, "and embarrass the Oracle with a scandal against her brother. If that whelp's loyalties were to the Empire, he'd have walked right past the body and headed to the signing, as if nothing had happened, because he'd know that by nightfall, Niflheim would assume control of Insomnia, and Niflheim rule wouldn't do shit to him, over the death of a Lucian. Of course, he wasn't the one who did it, but that he'd tell security shows a clear belief that there will still stand an independent Insomnia, that would care."

"Despite that failure of loyalty," Drautos said, "why, Cor, would he even believe that the Crown City could survive an invasion that it isn't supposed to know is coming?"

Cor kept up an impressive poker face. "I've no idea. I only know that Regis knows, and that somehow, without having spoken to Regis, so do you."

"And what do you propose now?" Drautos challenged. His voice was equally calm, but held an edge sharp enough to draw blood. "Are you going to try to arrest me, by yourself, Cor?"

The marshal breathed a humorless laugh. "I'm not that stupid, Titus."

"You can't possibly be assuming that I'll turn myself in?"

"No," Cor agreed, honestly. "But, I am offering you a head start, if you run."

Drautos cracked a smile and chuckled lowly. "Are you?"

"This is no joke," Cor told him. "Regis knows that you've been a Nif agent. If you aren't executed as a traitor, when this is over, you'll be disgraced and exiled at best, or spend the rest of your years in a prison cell. You can choose to leave now. There must be _somewhere_ you can go, for perhaps a month. Until the threat of this invasion has become an unpleasant memory. If money for a room, for food, is a problem, I'll help you."

"Is that wise, _Marshal?_ " Drautos taunted, with bared teeth. "You've spent your life currying your king's favor, becoming his Man of Law, and you'd throw that away, to help an enemy agent?"

"No," Cor said. "I'm risking it, to help _you_."

Anger flashed in Drautos' eyes. Cor could see that it wasn't half as angry as the captain _wanted_ to be.

"The Citadel's forces have their orders," Cor said. "They know what to do. I can leave with you, if that's what it takes for you to leave now."

"You?" Drautos scoffed, "Betray your precious king?"

"I'll be disgusted with you later," Cor told him, "for the guard's death, and for inferring that I'd ever do such a thing for _anyone_ else on Eos. For the gods' sake, Titus, you know damned well, the weight of what I'm proposing to you."

The anger rolled back further, however much it did so against Drautos' will.

"Why do your pride, your honor, have to depend on the death of a good man?" Cor all but pleaded.

"You can call him that, after what Regis allowed to--?"

"I'm talking about _YOU!_ " Cor hissed, with venom enough to force Drautos' expression back to blank. "You have a life. You have a future. You have the memories of your family, your village, to keep alive, along with you. Those medals on your chest aren't there, to open beer bottles. Why are you so determined to spill the blood of more innocents, just to get to Regis? He'll be dead, within five years, Titus. That damned ring and Crystal will see to that. Noctis will die, when he banishes the Scourge and restores the light. That is the word and will of Bahamut. The Lucis Caelum bloodline will be finished, by the gods, themselves.

"You cannot possibly believe that Aldercapt and Izunia will rule over Lucis, over Galahd, with any more love and kindness than Morus and Regis have shown it," Cor said. "Perhaps, in even warning you, I'm throwing away a career; you're throwing away your _life_. For nothing, but to speed up the death of a man marked to die, anyway."

Drautos longed for a return of his anger. All he got was the sharp sting of reality, and the fatigue of futility.

"Ravus wanted Regis dead, as well," Cor related to him. The unforced compassion in the marshal's voice grated against Drautos' very bones. "I'm sure that you knew. He was willing to die for the opportunity. But, his love for his sister is stronger than his hate for the man he's blamed for destroying their world. Ravus will never forgive Regis. He doesn't have to. Neither do you. But you both have reasons to live. Reasons that Aldercapt cannot fulfill for you, nor take from you."

"Why are _you_ so determined to allow a traitor to the crown to walk away, free?" Drautos demanded in response.

To that, Cor could only shake his head, and crack a grin. "I'll explain it to your stubborn ass, in excruciating detail, in a month," he said.

Cor moved to close the distance between them. Drautos didn't retreat. The captain straightened, and slowly drew his brows together with Cor's every step. The marshal stopped with not a hand's breadth between them. Quickly, softly, Cor kissed Drautos' lower lip.

"Who knows, Titus? You might figure it out on your own, by then."

"Cor, you just don't know--"

"And I don't want to," Cor halted. "The time for understanding was every night we've been in one another's apartment, letting alcohol tell us that it wasn't real bonding, that nothing we did counted, if we were buzzed; the time is a month from now, in some motel room in Old Lestallum, or somewhere in Leide. Maybe the time for knowing everything will never need to come. But, it isn't now."

Cor took a sleek wallet from an inside pocket. He withdrew a card from the Bank of Insomnia, pulled the side of Drautos' jacket out, where he knew another inner breast pocket would be, and slid the card inside.

"It's an account with gil," Cor explained, "for expenses during travel outside of the city."

"Now, you run." Cor looked into the captain's eyes. "Don't let a king that you hate continue to rule over your decisions, Titus. Whatever else you've done, you deserve to be freed from that enslavement. But _you_ have to choose to remove that yoke from your shoulders, to throw it down, and walk away."

Drautos stared at the marshal for what felt like hours, but in truth, wasn't a full quarter of a minute.

"How can you trust that I won't turn and go back to my orders?" he asked.

"It's more faith than trust," Cor answered. "Faith that you can choose the best outcome for yourself, and tell any would-be master to go fuck himself. Faith that your rationality is stronger than your rage. When this day is over, I'll either find you dead, have to kill you, myself, or never see you inside of Insomnia again. Whichever outcome you choose, you will not kill a king today, Titus. You've already exceeded your limit, at one life, and I'd much rather lose you for a few weeks, than forever. For the love of the Six, _run_.”

* * *

 

"Your Highness?"

The title caught Ravus' ear immediately, as he'd been heading for the Great Hall, and whatever endgame the fates would prove to have in store. He turned to find a short woman, thick with muscles, dark brown hair in curls that were elegantly wild, and the uniform of Insomnia's elite guards.

"Ye?" Ravus acknowledged.

"Crowe Altium, Kinsglaive," she informed him, privately. "I have a message for you, from His Majesty."

"Oh." Ravus could find no hope that this would be good.

"He says 'I could see that your heart is firmly with... your gem'?" She made a small face, as if unsure whether she was relaying Regis' words correctly. "'but the world needs your priorities to remain with the Oracle'."

That wasn't as bad a message as it could have been, Ravus supposed. If he'd had any energy to spare, it would have pissed him off, for Regis to drag the memory of his lover further into this international mess. All the same, it didn't say much of anything as to what Regis intended to do about what his Glaive had overheard the night before, nor of whether the plans of counter-ambush had changed since Ravus had last heard of them.

"I thank you," he offered. "Is there anything else His Majesty has to say?"

"Yes," she nodded, once. "The king said there was another message for you, that is simply...'pepper'."

Ravus' heart stopped.

"Who told him that?" Ravus barely breathed. He didn't doubt that he'd used his pet name for his general while talking with Regis, but he would _not_ have used his general's name for his freckles. A term Safay never used around others, but only in Ravus' bed. "Whose message is that?"

"I'm sorry, Highness," she said. "I only know what King Regis told me, directly. There was no one else, in his private drawing room with us, but his shield."

"Have... have you seen a tall man about? Long, stormy hair, to his knees?"

"I'm sorry, no," she said again. "I've been in briefings all morning, save for my summons by the king."

Perhaps hair so long could be confusing. "... a woman, of the same stature?"

"Your Highness," she said, as she tried her best to be kind, "hair that long of any color would be memorable, let alone in gray. I haven't seen any. I'm sorry."

"Ye," Ravus sighed, "of course. My apologies. And... my gratitude. H-have you seen the Oracle at all?"

"This time, yes," she glad to be able to say. "I did see the princess walking with His Majesty, maybe two hours ago. They seemed to be conversing, pleasantly enough, under the circumstances."

"'Princess'...?" Ravus noted. Not merely 'Lady'? A hint of a smile found its way to his lips.

"The Empire can stick it, if they don't like it," she told him, quietly, "but once a princess, always a princess, if you ask me. My friend looks at her like she's something out of a storybook."

"She is," Ravus agreed, softly. Three Lucian officials passed behind them to reach the hall and await the arrivals of the king and emperor, and brought Ravus back to the matters at hand. "Oh dear, it's I who should be sorry, if I'm keeping you from your duties."

"Not to worry, Your Highness," she said. "If I'm late because a prince held me up, I think they'll cut me some slack."

Ravus regarded her with a just-obvious smile, and turned to head off on the hard walk to an uncertain future. Or, possibly, a much abbreviated one.

"Commander?" the Glaive called after him, on impulse. He turned, but stayed where he stood, without a motion from her to come closer. "Stay safe."

"And you and yours," Ravus replied.

* * *

 

Inside of the hall that was never going to bear witness to a treaty this day, the isolation one could feel among so many present bodies and low, chattering voices was profound. Regis sat in one of a pair of ornate chairs at the hall's head. Or so one could assume, with the Lucian council members that cloistered and spoke around it. A visual confirmation wasn't to be had easily.

Iedolas was on his feet, halfway between a heavy, carved block of a dark wooden table and the the arch where a generous passage opened up into the Citadel's even more expansive Great Hall. He, too, spoke with his accompanying council, if in a manner more triumphant. They lacked only flutes of champagne, for their scene to look complete.

Neither man nor their courts had attention to spare for the once-prince of Tenebrae, who glided closer to them almost as a ghost in white, among the sea of black and red.

Ravus heaved an uneasy sigh. The sense of standing between two cannons aimed point blank at his person, that just waited for him to give them a reason to light one fuse or the other, was hard to shake. Within the hall, what appeared to be amicable mingling between governments was little more than tense pacing on the side of the Lucians, and gloating swagger, from the Nifs.

Every member of the Emperor's entourage knew what was coming for Insomnia. Their open countenances of confidence and power within the hall seemed, to Ravus, to forget that they shouldn't give their prey time nor reason to grow suspicious. Of course, because of Ravus and through Regis, the Lucian council knew what was coming, just as well. That same confidence among the Nifs was, by now, dangerously close to arrogance; it blinded the upper hand from having noticed that where there should have been obliviousness and dark curiosity among Regis' people, there was instead uncertain dread and an impatience for the threat to reveal itself, so that they might get on with surviving it, however they must.

That shouldn't have been the case, for a government that had been kept in the dark. No eyes among Niflheim's elite appeared to shift about in search of a culprit for why that wasn't so. It was possible that Niflheim believed that no matter Insomnia's warnings or defenses, it would not be enough to save them. It was possible that they were correct.

The factions kept to their own, without a royal order from either sovereign to do otherwise.

Iedolas had brought two MT units into the hall. 'For protection', he'd surely insisted, but with a snap of the emperor's fingers, those units would slaughter the entire Lucis counsel, as soon as Iedolas was through with their king. Whatever Regis had planned for counter measures, those MTs could only be massive and deadly hurdles to getting those plans executed well.

Without knowing what those counter measures were, it left Ravus in the position of not knowing whether it was best for Lunafreya's safety to attack the MTs and buy Regis time, should they strike, or whether to do nothing and simply allow events to unfold.

It would have been a comfort, to be able to look to Regis, and see any signal at all of whether he was still in the king's favor; whether the king was blaming him for a guard's murder; whether Regis even believed him anymore, that an attack was imminent. As it was, Regis was no longer seated and huddled with his own council members, and now spoke with his shield as they strolled to the King of Lucis' place behind the ornate ceremonial table.

It was there, or rather, behind the king and his shield, that a figure among a line of four that wore the black of the Kingsglaive caught Ravus' eye. They each blended well into the carved walls behind them, in matching hoods with masks of dark silver scrollwork covering their eyes and opaque black veils over the rest. Ravus might not have even noticed them, such was their militant stillness, but for the glint of that metal.

One Glaive's height demanded notice. His marked advantage above the rest wouldn't let Ravus look away. All in the lineup had broad shoulders, even the second from the left that was surely a woman, but the tallest of them still stood out. His muscles were lean, but his biceps and rounded chest stretched his sleeves and jacket breast in a way that the others' physiques did not. It was evident at the nape of his neck and the shoulder seams of his sleeves, even despite a thick leather chestplate.

Ravus realized that that was a great deal of what looked so different about him. The other three Glaives had uniforms tailored to their muscles and for their movement. The fit of the tall Glaive's clothing seemed... hasty. The personal adorments of color and chains were utterly absent. If this was truly a member of the Kingsglaive, he was brand new to the team. And no king in his right mind would bring a rookie to such a political powder keg.

Ravus soon felt warm beneath his collar, as his gaze kept returning to the tallest Glaive's chest. So much mention of his lost lover, he supposed. So much longing that was causing him to see parts of his dead soldier among the living. The Glaive's chest was firm and full; uncommon for a man and painfully close to what Safay would have looked like in a Lucian uniform. No-- _precisely_ how Safay's build would have strained against the fabric and fastenings of a jacket that wasn't his own.

That Ravus could tell that the Glaive looked back at him, that the alluring curve of his chest rose to give away his rapid breathing, only made the illusion worse.

Only, Ravus didn't fall for illusions. Something in Ravus' brain saw through them as the hazy veil over reality that they were, as it had, ever since Gentiana began visiting Lunafreya, when he and his sister were small. In Zegnautus Keep, Ardyn often used glamours on soldiers and staff, for fun. Ravus seemed to be the only one who noticed.

If it wasn't an illusion, then what was it? What could possibly have brought such a perfect body double of his lost lover into his presence? Today, of all days? Into a forum that they clearly had no call to attend? Did Ravus' grief, still raw and bleeding, blind him to a simple coincidence?

Had... had Ardyn _lied_ about the general's death? And what then, just abandoned him, to the enemy?!

_Safay?_ Ravus questioned to the Glaive, without a sound from his lips.

The figure's lips weren't visible, behind the veil, but there must have been eye contact. An unseen, unfocused stream of thrill and fear and want and _love_ emanated from the Glaive. The deputy high commander knew the voice of that psyche intimately. It did not usually speak in formed words--few broadcasts so strong did--but one solid word, thick with joy and concern, came through easily. His own name.

_Ravus_.

The former prince's thoughts could have fallen down a dozen different rabbit holes of possible explanations and conspiracy theories. He somehow avoided them all. Indeed, his mind all but shut down from advance thinking, completely. There was only necessity. Necessity, and action.

Ravus was only vaguely aware of his steps as he moved closer to Iedolas. The emperor's back was turned to him. Confident, it would seem, that the dangled prospect of ruling an empire, of being so close to his dream of Regis' death, would keep Ravus obedient. But, any chance of Ravus being placated with a throne had been before he saw that Regis offered a priceless gem. _His_ gem.

Ravus reached up for the broad, black pennant stripe at the top of his raiment's closure. He withdrew a thin and finely honed dagger, in the same instant that his left hand came around Iedolas to grasp the emperor's chin and shove his head upward. The blade held tightly to Iedolas' throat.

"You kill your emperor, if you kill me!" Ravus shouted.

He'd anticipated that the MTs would raise their weapons, and they did, but they wisely realized that there was no way to fire without hitting Iedolas, and halted with their wrist-embedded guns as the ready.

There was a white flash of panic behind Ravus' eyes, at the thought of being in front of those guns again. The last time he'd been, his mother had been murdered, right in front of him.

The flash was gone, as soon as it had arisen. He was not that boy now. He was taller. He was stronger. And across the heavy table, among the Glaives, he was not alone against the world. Authority in the moment was his, and he held it over the ultimate source of his family's pain. Ravus didn't know what to do from one second to the next, but the gods be damned, he was going to do what was just. He was not going to fail as a protector again.

The hall had gone still and silent, with every eye wide and trained on the former prince. He at least took heart that Lunafreya looked more horrified for his safety than disappointed in his stupidity.

"Order the MTs to stand down, and the ships, back to Gralea," Ravus instructed. His voice wavered, but his muscles had the strength and stability of stone.

"What in the depths of Hell do you think you're doing?!" Iedolas snarled against the steel at his neck.

_"ORDER THEM,"_ Ravus demanded again.

"Guards!" Regis bellowed throughout the chamber.

In little more than an instant, Cor's fifty soldiers were a circle around everyone in the hall.

Ravus should have felt every ounce of his weight drop to his feet in dread, to be at the center of Regis' counter-ambush. He didn't. What he felt was far from invincible, despite such a valuable hostage in his grasp, but the tallest Glaive's presence... in Lucian clothing, trusted unrestrained behind their _king_... Whatever Ravus didn't yet know was not out to kill him. It allowed him to stand strong behind his rash decision.

"Impressive, Your Majesty," an oily voice spoke up from somewhere behind Ravus, closer to the Great Hall's opening. The commander could hear slow footsteps come closer, across the polished stone floor. "This is a most unforgivable development, I assure you."

The circle of guards all raised their guns and primed them with a near simultaneous click.

Ardyn had the sense to pause for a moment, and note that he and Iedolas were as much in the line of fire as their traitorous ward.

"If your guards will allow me," Ardyn proposed, "I'll relieve our Tenebraean renegade of his weapon."

Two loud pounds of boots as they leaped up onto the table rang out in the hall, followed immediately by the cocking of one more rifle.

"Get away from him," the tall Glaive warned, the barrel of his military rifle trained on the chancellor. "You try to touch him, and you won't have a hand to pull back."

"King Regis," Ardyn addressed, indignantly, "as Chancellor of the Empire of Niflheim, I demand that you remove and arrest your soldier, and issue an apology for this outrageous display!"

"I'll do no such thing," Regis announced clearly. "Niflheim, however, will do as Lord Ravus says, and call off your fleet, before you may so much as request a glass of water."

"This boy is out of his mind!" Iedolas protested. "We're here to sign a treaty, Regis! There _are_ no ships!"

"Accordo says differently," Regis informed him. He pulled paper from within his leather vest, unfolded it, and quoted it to the hall. "Five Imperial dropships. One Imperial dreadnought. Just _waiting_ , out at sea. Just far enough out to be missed by Insomnia's radar range. Confirmed by sight and radar, by two Accordan Navy vessels. Just as our intelligence source warned us, yesterday."

"Do you wish to explain, Iedolas," Regis invited, "or are you willing to have half of the Niflheim government, including yourself, imprisoned for attempted assassination of the King of Lucis, and invasion of the Crown City?"

"Those ships are protection for the Emperor's envoy!" Ardyn challenged.

"After he just said they didn't exist?" Regis noted. "How are they protection for anything, so far out from the Wall?"

"King of Lucis or no, you have no authority to threaten the Emperor of Niflhe--"

Ardyn had taken a step closer to Ravus as he argued with Regis. A single gunshot and the ping of a bullet off of the stone floor, not an inch from the toe of Ardyn's boot, promptly stopped him.

"I fucking told you to stay away," the Glaive on the table growled.

Ardyn's rage was barely contained. "Show yourself, you insolent coward," he ordered, as his amber eyes narrowed.

The Glaive pushed up his dark metal mask. The light in the hall was far from glaring, but it was enough to noticeably constrict feline pupils in the center of violet eyes, and show the anger in a pair of thin, stormcloud gray brows.

Ardyn's face took on the look of a man who'd just gotten a joke.

"Well, no wonder," the chancellor mused with a lopsided grin. "Who else would protect a has-been prince, but his ever-faithful mongrel?"

"He's supposed to be _dead_ ," Iedolas angrily reminded his chancellor.

"Entirely my fault," Ardyn said, his voice light until it quickly darkened as he continued. "I'd assumed that a shield's loyalty to his crownless sovereign would've led that shield to die, before he'd ever break and betray--"

More gunfire rang out from Safay's rifle. Shouts of terror from both councils rose with them, Regis reflexively threw the ethereal dome of a barrier spell over Iedolas and his captor, Clarus drew a shield from Regis' armiger to hold in front of the Oracle, but the shots all but drowned out the noise. The MTs didn't move, without Iedolas' cry or command, nor the Lucian soldiers, without their king's.

Ardyn's expression fell into blank surprise that at least six bullets had passed through his chest. A rather tight grouping. Unexpected, from a swordsman. The blossom of pain was almost exquisite. A precious instant's memory of mortality, which sadly wouldn't last. And which, occurring with so many witnesses, would be extremely difficult to explain later. So much repair and bother, ahead.

"All because of you," Ardyn's voice gurgled, accompanied by drops and streaks of black from the corners of his mouth. "Filthy waste of a far superior monster's flesh--"

One final shot fired, and landed just off-center on Ardyn's forehead. The bullet's momentum knocked Ardyn off of his feet, for his back to land on the floor with a heavy, gruesome thud.

"King Regis, this is madness!" a Nif councilman at last shrieked out. "He was unarmed! That was our _chancellor!"_

" _Was_ ," Clarus agreed, quietly.

"He was also a conspirator against the Lucian throne," Regis said, unfazed. At least, until he looked to where Ardyn's body lie, just as it faded to nothing amid a small whirlwind of black wisps of smoke. Regis allowed the pale blue, geometric barrier to collapse.

"What horrid sorcery has infiltrated your government, Iedolas?!" Regis demanded.

"Izunia was long a trickster," Iedolas said, "but I'd no idea that he was anything but human!"

"More lies, like your non-existent ships?" Regis asked.

"For the gods' sake, Regis!"

"Iedolas, I'll only tell you once more," Regis warned, "order your fleet back to Niflheim. If you refuse, you and your council shall rot in the brig, until you comply. If the Citadel is destroyed in retaliation, you shall perish with it, so deep within its foundation that your remains shall never be found. That fate is wholly avoidable, Iedolas, if you retreat, immediately."

Ravus drew the dagger's edge tighter still.

"There are fates worse than imprisonment," Ravus spoke lowly, into the emperor's ear. "You came to Insomnia, wanting to end the Lucis Caelum bloodline. Now, it is _I_ , in a very real position to end an ancient line of royals. Perhaps the Lucians will shoot me, should I cut your throat, perhaps your MTs, but you'll be dead, all the same. Do you honestly think I wouldn't? For Tenebrae? For Lunafreya? For our mother, whom Glauca murdered in cold blood, under _your_ orders?!"

Iedolas swallowed against the dagger's blade, to regain his composure.

"Regis," the emperor spoke at last, "how do you propose that I contact them?"

Regis turned his head to a doorway to his right, and motioned for his waiting marshal to approach.

Cor had been outside of the door for only a moment before Regis' own arrival, with news of a captain gone missing. He now strode to the circle of soldiers and edged his way through. Cor stopped before Iedolas, expressionless, and pulled a Nif-issue radio transmitter from his pocket, seized during the removal of the guards trapped in the Oracle's chambers.

"You bastards have been plotting this, all along," Iedolas seethed.

"As if you did not have plans of your own, for this entire 'treaty'," Regis scoffed. "Now, order them away."

It took a tense fifteen minutes for the orders to be relayed. The MTs were the first ordered to retreat, and return to the emperor's envoy ship. The fleet's commanders didn't believe that the orders were coming from Iedolas at first; then didn't want to believe what they were hearing, after he'd given them high-clearance codes as identification; and finally, did not want to comply, in outrage over their emperor's capture.

Iedolas relayed to them the same scenario Regis had described, of burying their emperor alive in the Citadel's rubble, should they disobey and attack. That, ultimately, provoked the reluctant agreement to retreat. Another anxious ten minutes passed, far more awkward for the Niflheim envoy in the hall, as Regis awaited confirmation from Accordo.

"Majesty?" a voice at last called from the hall's end. Regis beckoned them closer. Two Glaives quickly jogged to the circle and nudged their way through. One of them was Nyx, who stopped close to Ravus, his lungs winded from exertion and his uniform bearing the soot and scent of fried wiring. The other was Crowe, bearing her active phone in hand as she adjusted her earpiece. Both bowed to Regis, and Crowe spoke.

"Word received from the Accordan vessels, Majesty," she relayed. She looked down to the small screen, to read off the Accordan message verbatim. "All Imperial ships have turned, and are heading east, toward Niflheim."

"Good," Regis nodded, and allowed himself to at last take a deep breath. "And the MTs?"

"Destroyed, as soon as they reached the steps outside, Majesty," Nyx reported.

"Security has swept all areas of the Citadel accessible without passcodes," Crowe furthered, "checked all video monitors in passcode areas, and no further MTs nor Imperial soldiers have been detected."

"What of the envoy's ship?" Regis asked.

"Heavy artillery trained on it, from all sides," Cor replied. "All buildings that could be affected, if it has to be shot down, were evacuated before dawn. As ordered, Majesty. If it moves in any direction but down to land, it's going to become scrap metal in a street crater."

"You will spill no more blood today, Iedolas," Regis said.

"So says the keeper of an animal who gunned down my chancellor," Iedolas contested.

"Hmm," Regis considered. "I'll have a specialist examine you, during your detainment, Iedolas."

"Detainm--"

"Your short term memory is terrible, for a man of your good health."

"How dare you speak of detaining the Emperor of Niflheim!" Iedolas spat.

"Which of us came here today with the intent to kill the other?" Regis challenged. "Your current predicament and that _thing_ passing as your chancellor notwithstanding, neither you nor your council will meet with harm in my custody. My soldiers, my security, and myself, however, _will_ exercise our right to defend ourselves with lethal force when warranted, should any of you attempt to resist. So, kindly refrain from any thoughts of that, yes?"

Iedolas's gaze seethed at him, even as the dagger of Nif steel stayed at his throat and a Tenebraean heartbeat thundered at the base of his neck.

"Am I to remain your prisoner, indefinitely?" Iedolas asked.

"That shall depend upon you," Regis said. "My council will need days to write up a _real_ treaty. It may take weeks more, to coordinate with the other governments and secure the assurances that Niflheim will honor our terms without any retaliatory measures."

"On Tenebrae...?" Ravus spoke up. Fear tinged his voice, as it first crossed his mind that what he'd done could pose a real and terrible danger to his home.

Regis paused, for a pointed glance at the young man holding Iedolas captive. Ravus' pale skin had gone whiter from nerves, save for the redness across the bridge of his nose from his racing pulse.

"On anyone," Regis answered, with an affirming nod. "Insomnia agreed to a treaty for peace, and that is what we shall have, now that we have your... shall we say, undivided attention, Iedolas?"

"It's almost amusing, that you think I'll so readily forgive this assault and humiliation, Regis," Iedolas growled.

"Readily? Not at all. But you'll have ample time to consider your few alternatives," Regis replied. His gaze fell aside to Cor, with only the slightest turn of his head away from the emperor. "Marshal: you may begin escorting the councilmen to their cells. Search them for weapons. No fewer than three soldiers per man, no fewer than fifteen shall remain in this hall, at any time, until it's cleared. _His Radiance_ will be the last to be escorted. But, you two..."

Regis pointed to a pair of his soldiers on the far edge of the circle from the Nif council.

"Both of you, place your restraints on the Emperor," Regis instructed. "Keep your weapons primed and stay at his sides, so that we may allow our cavalier prince to rest."

The soldiers approached Ravus from both sides and paused, until they realized together that he wasn't about to move and risk a chance for Iedolas break free, and worked to get the emperor's hands behind his back and cuffed, with Ravus still in the way. Each put a cuff on a wrist, and passed its empty partner to the other through the minimal gap between Iedolas' back and Ravus' stomach. It was odd choreography, but it worked efficiently enough.

"You can step away, Your Highness," one soon informed Ravus, a bit awkwardly.

Ravus moved only as quickly as the soldiers squeezed him out, to each put a hand around Iedolas' restrained arms while keeping their other on their rifles. Ravus let the dagger's blade drag along Iedolas' skin with just enough release of pressure to avoid drawing blood. It slipped back into its hidden sheath, inside the front panel of his raiment coat, and Ravus inelegantly staggered back a couple of steps with an intense but blessedly brief wave of nausea.

"Wait," he told the soldiers, as the room's wavering settled and the stability of his ancestral sea legs returned.

Ravus crossed to stand in front of Iedolas. It was odd, how much smaller the emperor looked, without a dais to hoist him above his officers. Iedolas' eyes were a regal sky blue, but they were dark and full of fire, over Ravus' betrayal. That wasn't something Ravus cared about, at that moment.

The commander--well, former commander, he now supposed--grasped the side of the emperor's white robes without a request for permission. It provoked quite a stream of loud epithets from Iedolas, as Ravus reached his hand into one side, then the other, and finally withdrew an ornate silver pistol, cast in mythril.

"I'm well aware that you and your council think me dense," Ravus spoke lowly, "but I am _not_ oblivious."

Ravus backed up from the emperor, rather than turn his back, until the table's carved edging made a soft sound of colliding with the armor around his right leg and the leather that draped over it. He twisted at his waist to hold the pistol out to Regis, flat on his open palm.

"I told you," was all Ravus could think to say.

Regis looked from Sylva's son to the weapon that had indeed laid in wait to kill the King of Lucis. A bright blue light surrounded the pistol as Regis' fingers touched to its side, and it quickly disappeared in a small flurry of ethereal crystal shards and sparks of magic, tucked inaccessibly into Regis' armiger.

Regis nodded. After word of Iedolas' offer from Nyx, he had no doubt that Ravus was still anxious to be believed, to keep the help that he'd finally been so close to receiving. Regis couldn't help a grin to think of how many lives Ravus has just saved, and yet Ravus was the one afraid to lose allies.

"I'd prefer you stay here, Ravus," Regis said, "until all prisoners have been squared away. It will take fewer resources from security, to have the Empire's biggest targets for revenge in the same, heavily guarded area. But while you're here, I'd say you've both more than earned your reward. It's yours, to take."

The king turned away, to speak with his shield and council, and left Ravus to marvel that his heart could beat even harder than it already had been.

_Both?_

Ravus spun on his heel quickly enough for the long tails of his coat to flare, and found himself looking into the violet eyes, as wide as his own, of his protector. The Glaive's hood was pushed back, off of his head, the opaque veil over his face fallen away, and the face of Ravus' lost gem was close enough to be touched.

Safay was crouched on the table's edge, then got his feet onto the floor with a grace born only of an action with no conscious thought behind it. All of the soldier's attention was on the tears rolling down his prince's cheeks; on the overwhelming desire to stop them, without knowing how.

Ravus was an ugly crier, and Safay had a want to grin at the very thought that his prince could be anything short of perfect. It was difficult, however. The whole reason that Ravus' light skin flushed red and his expression contorted was that he fought viciously to keep his tears contained. If Ravus was crying, it was because the pain behind it was finally too intense to bear. All Safay wanted to do was to take that pain away.

"I thought you'd died," Ravus said, in a shuddering whisper. "I believed, I'd _accepted_ , that I'd never again see you, never touch you, but in death. There was no goodbye. No burial. No grave. You'd died alone, without so much as a ring on your finger..."

Safay bundled his prince close to him, in a tight embrace. To simply nuzzle at Ravus' driftwood blond hair felt like the highest luxury that Eos could offer. His prince appeared to feel much the same way, about squeezing and releasing the first free-hanging length of his soldier's silver braid, over and over. It felt so safe and sheltered, to be in Ravus' arms; as though no burning light on Eos would ever get to Safay, as long as he was within them.

It was, ironically, the first time since he'd been taken prisoner that Safay's focus _wasn't_ solely on protecting Ravus, and now left him to realize just how defenseless he'd felt, in his cell. How defenseless he'd feel again, if he couldn't stay in Ravus' hold.

"Are you mad at me?" Safay whispered in his prince's ear.

Ravus drew a hard, stiff breath through his nose, to rein in his tears. His hands went to Safay's shoulders, and he pushed the soldier away from him, only enough to look into his eyes.

"Why on Eos would I be?" Ravus asked in return, softly.

"I broke," Safay breathed out between them. "He started guessing. He got so close, and I panicked that he could hurt you, or that Caligo would find out and use it to turn the army against you. I broke, right when it _mattered_ that I keep it together, for you."

"Broke?" Ravus repeated. "Where _were_ y-- Was it Regis, who started guessing?"

Safay simply nodded.

"When was this?" Ravus asked, gently.

"Yesterday." Safay said. "It was getting dark, when I left his office."

"Sapphirus," Ravus sighed, and raised his hands to cup his soldier's cheeks. His pale moonstone-blue eyes held nothing but affection. "He already knew, by then. He had to have been guessing, to see if you'd tell him the truth. My gem, there's nothing you could've told him, that wasn't known already. Because it was I, who 'broke' first."

"You...?" Safay's heart filled with dread, at the very thought of Ravus, subjected to one of the Four Down cells. Regis had only said that Ravus was in Insomnia. He'd never said where, and Safay had never considered that Regis would allow the torture of a prince. All those days of resistance, of endurance, of _taking it,_ and Ravus had been there, in need of rescue?!

"He came to my chambers yesterday," Ravus explained. He saw his lover's eyes close with an obvious sense of relief that he didn't understand. "All these years of anger spilled out, until it exhausted itself, and I was soon bargaining for Luna's protection, with what I knew of this invasion. There was nothing pertinent to today that you could have told him, that he hadn't already heard from me."

"I've no reason at all to be angry," Ravus assured his soldier. "You've not betrayed me."

Ravus held Safay still, and leaned in for a kiss that he'd believed that he'd never again be allowed to taste. His tears returned, as free-falling streaks that he didn't bother to contain. The strange, unmistakable sense of melting into one another filled Ravus' mind and sent a warm sensation through both their veins. The hall, half-illuminated by daylight through its high stone windows, grew brighter outside of their closed eyes, with a golden tinge. Safay sighed as the aches in his muscles, if not the lingering tightness of their prolonged inactivity, faded drastically.

It was so often easy to forget that Ravus was born to a bloodline of healers, when there were so many other reasons for Safay to adore him.

At the other end of their connection, Ravus could feel those aches; distantly, as though reading them from a book of others' sensory memories. He stopped the kiss to look at his lover with concern.

"Are you ill?" Ravus asked. The aches didn't feel like the sort that came with a miserable cold, but he couldn't think of what else could have caused them.

Safay shook his head. "Tired," he said. "I was up all night, stretching, to be ready for whatever happened today. I didn't sleep."

Ravus' eyes narrowed, just a little. The aches didn't seem like over-exertion, either, but Ravus had only rarely seen Safay exhausted, and certainly not frequently enough to contest Safay's answer. In the end, Ravus slowly blinked and sighed deeply, in sympathy.

"Nor I," he admitted. "My energy left me, once Regis had gone. I didn't dare sleep, but must have dozed, only to wake most unpleasantly. These bursts of panic aren't helping, in the slightest. I was positive that I'd be sleepwalking into a certain death today, and then a Glaive's message from Regis gave me a minor heart attack."

Before him, a weary smile lit up Safay's eyes.

"It had to be unique,” he explained. “And there'd better not be anyone else who knows about kissing the pepper on your skin. Sorry, Highness."

Ravus grinned in return, and pulled his soldier into another tight embrace. As their heads held together, the sense of terrifying isolation, of the emptiness of only one aura's echo in his soul for the remainder of his existence, was steadily replaced with the fullness and warmth of being whole again.

* * *

 

The sun had just fully risen over the ocean's horizon, illuminating Galdin Quay well, without yet being visible past the hills that encircled the harbor's coast, when Noctis stirred and stretched in his hotel bed.

The first day's travel had been eventful, as Regis' car broke down along the desert highway in Leide, and was ultimately repaired by one of the king's old friends. Pushing the Regalia to Hammerhead had been a struggle, to say the least; fighting rogue wildlife for parts to pay for the repairs, in lieu of local currency hadn't helped. Even after the rest of riding on, into Duscae, Noctis and Prompto had practically flopped their way to the hotel's bed like fish dropped on shore and trying to return to the water. Gladio was used to heavy weights and grueling workouts. Ignis had been steering.

_Someone has to_ , Noctis' retainer had said, and quickly took the driver's seat before any debate over exactly who that should be could take place. After a night's deep sleep, Noctis could finally grin about that.

The Prince of Lucis negotiated with his body to sit upright in the plush bed, just as the bedroom's door opened and Ignis and Gladio walked in. They both looked gravely concerned. Ignis carried the morning's newspaper in his hand.

"What's that look for?" Noctis asked. He swung his legs out from under the covers, to walk closer.

His retainer and shield shared an uncomfortable glance before looking back to him.

"Don't panic about this," Gladio began, "until we've talked to someone at the Citadel, alright?"

His comment dragged Prompto to his feet, from where he sat on a leather sofa, to share a look at the paper as Ignis held out its front page in his hands.

_Invasion Averted_  
Statements from King Regis, Accordo Navy  
paint peace treaty as cover for assassination of  
Lucian King, theft of Crystal, destruction of Insomnia.  
Emperor held as prisoner of Lucis, Nif Chancellor dead.

"What in the everloving fuck...?" Prompto asked.

"I-is this even real?" Noctis demanded.

"It's in every paper," Ignis said, albeit still with the slightest bewildered shake of his head. "If it's a forgery, the guilty party certainly went through a lot of trouble, to print enough copies to put it in every hand in Galdin."

"We wanted to read it through before just handing something horrible over to you," Gladio offered. "Looks like one palace guard and the chancellor were the only casualties. Doesn't say how. But, your dad's well enough to be giving statements to the press, and the Wall and barrier never faltered."

"How the hell do you take an emperor as prisoner?" Prompto wondered aloud. "Is that legal? Is that even possible?"

"Whoever has the knife, makes the rules," Ignis sighed. "Technically, a king and an emperor are on equal footing. It's Aldercapt's superior numbers through his multiple territories and his Magitek army that have given him the upper hand over so many nations. Remove him from those numbers... Well, it appears that somehow, His Majesty had a clear opportunity for advantage, and took it."

"Have you ever seen Dad be that aggressive?" Noctis asked. He'd been taught all his life that while bold actions had their time and place, a king's strength wasn't strictly offensive measures. Noctis knew that many times, Regis simply couldn't be more aggressive with Niflheim, without putting Insomnia's safety at risk. "Just... what the hell kind of advantage could there have been, for him to take Iedolas as a prisoner and risk Niflheim sending a violent response?"

Noctis' eyes widened with a horrifying possibility. He snatched the paper from Ignis to quickly scan through the article for the words that would jump out to him.

"Does this say anything about Luna?" Noctis asked as he read. "Anything about Tenebrae being attacked, or threatened?"

"No mention of further threats or attacks on any other territories," Gladio relayed. "It mentions your engagement, the Oracle's intention of being present for the treaty signing, but that's about it. If she'd been harmed, that would've been big news, for all of her followers. We'd need to ask your dad, but if there's nothing to report, I think that means she's okay."

"Indeed, His Majesty's statement doesn't mention Tenebrae at all," Ignis added. "He only speaks of the thwarted invasion, the lingering need to sort out the conspiracy, and the need for all opponents of the Empire to draft a real treaty with Niflheim, while they have the chance."

"Well, Dad's statement, yeah," Noctis nodded, "but there's nothing yet about responses from the Nif government, still in Gralea? I can't see them being okay with this, at all."

"I suppose we'll soon discover just how popular Aldercapt is with his council and army," Ignis said. "Whether they'll negotiate for his release, attempt a release by force, or decide to select a new ruler, entirely."

Despite the worry of uncertainty, Noctis felt himself smile at that last possibility.

"Iedolas would be thrilled about that," Noctis mused. "His own government leaving him in a cell, while it destroys itself, fighting over who should get his throne."

"Again, technically speaking," Ignis said, "as Iedolas has no direct heirs and his chancellor is deceased, Lady Lunafreya should be the highest-ranking royal within the Empire, to assume its rule."

"Fat chance that the Nifs would like an outsider taking over," Gladio figured. "Noct's probably right, that the Nifs in Gralea will shred each other for dominance first."

"Oh, dear," Ignis realized. "This situation of imprisonment in Insomnia may be something of a problem for Lady Lunafreya. Her elder brother is of an elevated rank in the Imperial army. A commander, I believe?"

"Ravus," Noctis remembered.

"Yes," Ignis nodded. "Whatever his official title, it's entirely logical that he would have been present at a treaty signing. The Oracle would be there, as Insomnia's ally and representative of her faithful. Ravus would be the one to represent Tenebrae's interests, for the Empire."

"Which he's been so good at, so far," Noctis noted, with a roll of his eyes. "Luna's barely mentioned him in the past, what, ten years? Twelve? Not sure she'd be as broken up about him getting himself arrested as you'd think."

"That is possible," Ignis granted. "Particularly, in light of His Majesty's claim of an assassination attempt."

Noctis' hands, paper still grasped within them, fell against his hips as he looked to Ignis.

"You really think Niflheim plotted to kill the King of Lucis, and _Luna's brother_ could be in on it?" Noctis' tone wasn't accusing, so much as stunned by the possibility.

"You don't rise to high commander, or whatever, by opposing the Nif government at every turn," Gladio said, soberly.

"But, what if there are executions over this?" Prompto asked. "It was a plot to kill a _king_."

Ignis folded his arms and tapped a finger to his lips. "It's touchy. As King of Lucis, with his prisoners on Lucian soil, His Majesty would be within his rights to execute his would-be assassins. It would, however, entail a great deal of political costs, to do so. The Emperor is far more valuable as a hostage for negotiating with Niflheim, than as a potential martyr to galvanize the Imperial army into an outright assault on the Crown City; they would feel entitled to mount such an assault, in vengeance."

"Execute Iedolas, and Niflheim has the appearance of a legitimate grievance. They could claim Regis actually _is_ the murderer that Iedolas is only accused of planning to be, at this moment. Politicians who want to remain loyal to Niflheim but not appear to support assassinations would be given the cover to do so."

"Executions should be unlikely," Ignis concluded. "Lucis has had such brutal kings in the past, but His Majesty is not of their mold. The botched invasion is an embarrassment to Niflheim; there's no one else to take nor share the blame. No government on Eos should trust the Empire to not do the same to them, after this. Trade sanctions could be levied, diplomats expelled, borders and travel closed. While any such punishments would far from neuter Niflheim, it nevertheless reduces their power over others, remarkably."

"What do we do now, though?" Noctis asked. "Do we still go on to Altissia, when Luna's still in Insomnia? She won't even be there; maybe for days yet. If Niflheim's not calling the shots anymore, the whole wedding could be off."

"Just the same, it might not be safe yet, to head back to Insomnia," Gladio shrugged. "Niflheim's in no official capacity to make demands right now, but that's not to say there won't be rogues ignoring orders, official plan-B orders kept under wraps, both looking to take a prince hostage, in revenge."

"Well, there's always waiting to hear from the king," Prompto said. "He's probably busy as hell at the moment, but he'd answer a text from his son, to call when he's got a moment, right?"

* * *

 

Regis had only said that the former Deputy High Commander had been asked to remain within his guest chambers, after leaving the Great Hall. To not be upset to enter Ravus' suite and find him occupied.

To look at Ravus in that moment, it wasn't difficult to imagine that Regis had expected him to be in the middle of a bawdy tryst; a celebration of sorts, a well-earned reward for his invaluable assistance in protecting Insomnia, and the Oracle.

Not difficult to imagine, but also not the scene, at all.

Ravus was not laid bare upon his bed and tangled in its sheets. He was still in his long-sleeved, scoop-necked black undershirt and his dark pants of thin leather. He was tangled in the arms and legs of another, they still in the black teeshirt and trousers of a Kingsglaive uniform that didn't exactly fit them. It didn't appear that either had fully undressed, nor even awaken, since their dismissal. Almost eighteen hours ago, now.

To see him this way, so still and at peace, was a sight that Lunafreya hadn't witnessed since their mother had last been alive. In fairness, she hadn't seen much of him at all, in that time in between. But what she had seen was rough and frayed, a man hastily stitched together from the remnants of a boy, who hoped that no one would notice the flaws.

It was hard to let go of her perceptions that Ravus had abandoned her, had abandoned everything that he had once held dear, in an all-consuming hunger for revenge. It was hard to believe Regis, as he'd told her that Ravus had confessed to him that it was all for her, that Ravus had turned on Iedolas so quickly... as though it had taken him no debate, no thought, and Ravus' loyalties had never lied with the Empire.

At the foot of the appropriately king-sized bed, Lunafreya found a gentle smirk. Ravus and 'no thought' went together in more of her childhood memories than she could count, even if she'd never say so aloud.

Her smile faded, however, when she thought of all the second-hand stories of how vicious her brother could be, in battle. Merciless and cold, fueled by anger and instinct. Another skill, that came to him without thinking. Her darling brother, who ate wild apples while reading dictionaries, and scribbled down poetry in the woods of Zoldara Henge to use the new words he'd learned, had killed hundreds of rebels and insurgents--people whose only crime had been their opposition to the Empire.

Had _been sent_ to kill hundreds, she amended to herself. And that was the Ravus she knew, was it not? If his focus was on her protection, he could have been ordered to do almost anything, without a care for what it was. Without a thought. Anything, if it brought him to his goal.

That he'd found himself a mate at some point during that single-minded focus was a surprise. Although, if Lunafreya were to be honest, it was more likely that a mate had found him. It bothered her to hear from Regis that this man in her brother's arms was an Imperial general, but all the same, he'd turned on his direct chain of command, as well. Not for Insomnia, not even for Tenebrae, but for Ravus.

It felt too convenient an answer, that this general's love for Ravus, alone, made him trustworthy to forces that opposed the Empire, but it was a measure that had held so far, through Insomnia's greatest single moment of danger. Regis had trusted this Safay, armed and unrestrained, in his own presence; had told the Oracle to trust in him for protection. And none had come to harm from Safay's hand. Well, none but Ardyn. And even he'd been given a warning, first.

It occurred to her why Regis would ever suggest that she stay close to the Nif soldier for safety: not because she was Oracle, but because to fail at protecting her would have broken her brother's heart, and his soldier wouldn't dare risk that outcome.

So, this general was protective of Ravus. Dare she even admit, in love with him? A love clearly reciprocated, in her brother's tears and unwillingness to let him go, in the Great Hall. Where did that leave them, now? What was that general, to a prince? What did that make of a soldier trained to kill, amid a bloodline divinely ordained to heal?

Lunafreya touched her hands to the bed's footboard and leaned against it, as she pondered. The pressure from her light hundred-and-twenty pounds added to the weight of two strong and tall adult men atop of a large and dense mattress, and a low, yawning creak sounded in the room as an expertly crafted joint in the heavy, wooden bedframe barely moved against itself.

She straightened on her feet at once, but the noise was enough to penetrate Ravus' slumber. His brows drew together, and slowly, he opened his eyes.

The bedroom's thick drapes kept the space dim, but there was daylight visible behind them. No movement in his unfocused field of vision attracted his attention, which led him to return it to the still face of the partner sleeping in his arms.

From where she stood in silence, Lunafreya could see a fear on Ravus' face, as he waited to detect signs of life from the soldier... or to find them absent. Safay's breathing was deep, but slow; trusting his eyes, alone wasn't good enough for Ravus. He gently brought his left hand to Safay's jaw, and touched beneath and behind the bone, in search of a pulse.

Ravus' whole body relaxed with his quiet sigh, as he felt his lover's heartbeat against his fingertips. He nuzzled his forehead to Safay's, with both of their bangs a soft barrier between their skin. As Ravus glanced absently to the ceiling and over the room, a thin figure beyond their feet at last came into his view. He raised his head with a start, and sent his left arm over Safay again, protectively.

“I doubt that there's anything I could do to harm two men so large,” a light voice said, in reassurance.

“... Lunafreya?” Ravus soon ventured, little above a whisper.

“Ye,” she replied, softly. “I'll not ask if you've slept well, given the excitements you ignited throughout the world yesterday, but I would trust that your morning is leaps above the last?”

“Yesterday?” Ravus repeated, as his brain slowly caught up with his ears. “It's morning?”

“It is, indeed. Have you not left your bed, in all this time?”

“Nay,” Ravus admitted. “We closed the drapes, discarded our coats, lay together with a long kiss, and... that's all I can recall, until just now. Have I slept through a call?”

“The king tells me that he'd order you to be left to your privacy,” Lunafreya said, “so, it's doubtful that you've left anyone waiting. He did ask that I come and ensure that you were in good health.”

There was a sting in his heart to hear that the concern and visit weren't her own notions, but it was dulled by the realization that he should have expected as much. No one freed from their chains would blindly trust their liberator, without knowing why their oppressor's key was in 'friendly' hands. “Whatever the circumstances, it is good to see you, Lunafreya.”

"His Majesty is presently preparing for breakfast, before he begins his day of cleaning up the Emperor's mess," she said. "I was invited to join him and intend to accept, and he's requested that I extend the same invitation to you, since you've slept through your luncheon, high tea,  _and_ dinner."

A distinct hollowness in Ravus' stomach confirmed that she was right, without need to look around for a clock. Under normal circumstances, Ravus would've laughed off the thought of accepting an invitation from Regis, for anything. However, the past thirty-six hours had been long enough that times had changed. And there was a promise of food.

"Probably wise," Ravus groaned, with an inelegant rub and slow wipe of his eye to rid himself of the last grasps of his sleep. "If you would be so kind, Lunafreya, as to tell him that I'll be bringing my gem along...?"

"No need," she said. "The invitation is already for you both."

"Hm," he acknowledged. He'd have to remember to ask sometime, how Safay had made such a strong impression. Ravus would have been shocked if Safay weren't welcomed warmly, as his guest, but to be included in a king's request was not insignificant. Lunafreya, he noted, didn't sound as impressed with her brother's soldier. "Is there to be a dress code?"

"Perhaps a change from your undergarments," Lunafreya suggested, with the hint of a smile, "but as King Regis will not yet be receiving visitors beyond those he requests, I doubt that strict formality is expected. Clean and presentable should suffice."

Ravus' lips quirked into a grin. 'Presentable'. Their mother used that word often. Usually, aimed only at him. More specifically, at the full, wild hair that he'd inherited from their father.

"Then tell him, please, that we accept," Ravus said. "We shall do our best to be along quickly."

Lunafreya gave a short, single nod and turned to leave room.

"Thank you, sister."

She broke her stride with a pause, but continued on, without a glance nor a reply.

From the bed, Ravus sighed. Ice had formed between them, and required much more breaking than creating the possibility of her freedom would provide, alone. If and when it melted, it might well leave an ocean, between them. To potentially be disowned by his own blood was not a pleasant thought.

A heavy body shifting on the mattress next to him caught his attention. A reminder, that some manner of miracle had at least returned to him the only family that had ever been his by choice.

Ravus returned fully down onto his side and gently guided a tress of fallen hair away from Safay's face. From so close, Ravus could easily see the faint freckles that dotted the bridge of his soldier's nose. Each was precisely where it should have been. The sharp angles of dark silver brows, the widow's peak, the long lashes... If this was a fake or a copy of his lover, someone had certainly put in the effort for perfection.

Ravus could have easily lost hours to watching his soldier breathe. A sight that he'd been so sure that had been lost to him forever. There was fortunately an obligation to tear himself away from it. He leaned in to kiss above Safay's right eye.

"Wake, my gem," he implored, soft and deep. "We've been summoned."

* * *

 

In the dining room of the king's private residence, Lunafreya had just left to attempt to collect her brother, Nyx was still assigned to be her shadow for her protection, and Regis, at the head of the table where he'd seen the most of his son over the past twenty years, found himself with a moment of quiet and privacy. To exclude the hour or so that he'd fallen asleep in his office's chair and four more in his proper bed, it had been the first such moment in weeks. Not since the concrete preparations for receiving Iedolas had begun, had Regis _not_ been in constant communications with _someone_.

It made him chuckle to himself that all he wished to do in the moment's peace, was to take out his phone. But, obligations be damned, it was his own choice to use his time to speak to Noctis. His son, after all, deserved a more in-depth explanation than a return text that simply read _“worry not; all is well for the night, and I shall call you in the morning.”_

Morning came to Insomnia an hour sooner than it did Galdin Quay—or was it two?--but Regis doubted that Noctis would begrudge the discrepancy this once. Indeed, the line didn't complete its first ring before a weary voice, forcing itself to wake, had answered.

“Dad?” Noctis mumbled. His voice grew more animated, as his adrenaline kicked in. “Dad, are you okay?! What the hell is happening, over there?!”

“For goodness' sake, Noct, calm yourself,” Regis implored. He tried hard not to chuckle, and mostly succeeded. “Yes, I'm well. Although, the day is young.”

“ _Dad.”_

A small laugh escaped. “I assure you: I'm fine. You can tell Gladiolus and Ignis that their families are safe, also. Only one poor soul met an unfortunate end, yesterday.”

“The paper said that Niflheim's chancellor was killed, too?” Noctis pressed.

“I'm not as quick to call _his_ end unfortunate,” Regis said, “but that is correct. Iedolas and his council are no doubt fuming over their breakfasts, at this moment.”

“What about Luna?” Noctis asked. “Did anything happen to her?”

“Nothing beyond the tensions and shocks that we all experienced,” Regis relayed.

“Gods,” Noctis sighed, in relief. “The paper didn't say, and I didn't know if it was because there was nothing to report, or if it was too horrible to report...”

“Understandable, Noct,” Regis sympathized, “but you needn't worry now. Lunafreya was well prepared, and well protected.”

“Prepared? How?”

“We had an unexpected ally approach us with a detailed warning of Niflheim's looming assault,” Regis said. “He came through as quite the hero, in the end.”

“Oh,” Noctis replied, solemnly. This ally must've been the guard who'd been killed. “Praise Etro's mercy, that he was there, then.”

“Yes, indeed,” Regis agreed. “From what we learned, when we learned it, the wall held, and the barrier never fell. The Nif fleet was turned back, once Iedolas was held hostage, and a firefight that could've leveled half of Insomnia was averted. Cor's been a busy man; I really must make a note to add to his bonus, this year.”

“Dad,” Noctis broke in, through his father's chain of thought, “if Luna's okay in Insomnia, we've been wondering what we're supposed to do, here?”

“Do?”

“Yeah,” Noctis said. “Do we go on to Altissia, and wait for her there? Wait for her to catch up here? Do we come back to Insomnia? Is there even still a wedding?”

“Oh, I see,” Regis said. Unseen, he rubbed his temples. This was perhaps not the most pressing issue to iron out among so many, but it _was_ a plan that now needed replotted. “Hmm. Well... Stay where you are, for today, Noctis. You boys enjoy yourselves there. I may have you stay another day more, for a party to catch up with you. Allow me to think on this, over breakfast; Lunafreya's agreed to join me, and perhaps she can call you, with what's decided.”

“This is a nice place to stay,” Noctis said, “but the bill may be a problem. They use gil here, and all we left with were crowns.”

“Damn,” Regis grumbled. “That's right. I was rather preoccupied with your leaving, and the treaty approaching, that the currency matter slipped my mind. Contact my retainer with your hotel and room, Noct. He'll have them charge it to my personal account, and the bank will handle the exchange; he'll have them keep it quiet, for you. Do you require a stipend?”

“No, we're okay on that,” Noctis declined. “A lot of people on the road are willing to pay decently for getting rid of rogue animals for them. Just, probably not enough to keep this hotel room for two more nights, for four people.”

“Animals?” Regis repeated, in suspicion. “You're not engaging in anything reckless, are you?”

“Of course not! One guy even just asked us to help him find some gemstones that're supposed to be local. That's just rocks and dirt! Nothing dangerous about that, at all!”

“Mm-hmm,” Regis openly doubted. “You don't descend from the Lucis Caelum line without getting yourself into trouble, sooner or later, Noctis. Just be responsible, with the trouble you choose to take on.”

“Yes, sir,” Noctis agreed, sheepishly.

“That's a good son,” Regis grinned. “So. Are your concerns satisfied, until we speak again?”

“I think so, yeah,” Noctis replied. “I was just worried, you know? I didn't know how much of the news we could believe. It's good to hear that the good parts were accurate.”

“I'm glad of it, myself,” Regis said. “I'll leave you to your rest, and your day, then. Oh, Noctis? Humor an old man, for a moment?”

“Sure,” Noctis shrugged. “For what?”

Regis swallowed before he spoke. Lucis may have held control of the situation at present, but there was no guarantee that peace would hold. Only the passage of time would tell for certain. And then, there was prophecy.

Prophecy that had been changed, with the reality of a star that must still be healed and a king who still lived.

“I love you, my son.”

“ _Dad_ ,” Noctis groaned quietly into his phone.

There was a short silence, the line still active, before Regis smiled at the sound of a rushed and hushed “Iloveyoutoo.”

* * *

 

A low, unconscious grunt arose from Ravus' partner at being disturbed, and Safay seemed to defiantly curl up into himself all the more. Nestling into the softness of the covers and mattress were ironically what seemed to pull him back into the waking world. Safay barely parted his eyes, almost as if uncertain that he could, and glanced about the dark, charcoal gray bedding. The fingers of his right hand spread out over the fabric, and pressed down a few times to test the spring of the bed's surface.

At last, he looked to Ravus, and his eyes widened, considerably.

"Ravus...?" Safay asked, cautiously. His prince smiled, and touched their foreheads together. A sensation that no one could imitate, a safe and enveloping warmth, washed over the soldier's mind like a calm wave on a tropical shore.

"It's only I, ye," Ravus confirmed.

"Where are we?"

"The Citadel," he answered, patiently. "Insomnia, still. A dignitary's suite, in the northwest tower. It's not quite the hedonistic opulence that I'd prefer to give you, but there's a door for our privacy, and a bed, large enough for us both." He hadn't mentioned being moved to a different suite, after the death of his previous accommodations' doorman. One explanation at a time.

"A feat, on its own," Safay couldn't help but chuckle. Length was usually a bigger obstacle with beds, than width, with each of them close to six-and-a-half feet tall. He demonstrated, with a slow, leisurely stretch. His feet only braced to the footboard from the two of them not being far enough up for their heads to have reached the pillows.

"Do you hunger, Safay?" Ravus asked. "Regis is having his breakfast with Luna, and has offered for us to join them."

Safay stilled for a moment, and waited for his stomach to convey an answer. "Yeah. Even just a loaf of bread would be good."

"Well, then," Ravus said, with a couple of light, playful smacks on his lover's hip in a bid to get him to move, "we'd best straighten up a bit, and not keep them waiting."

Safay instead went limp on the bed in protest, face down, but groaned as he pushed himself upright, onto his hip. He smoothed his hands over his hair and tucked any loose bits he could feel into the locks of his braid. His hair wasn't exactly dirty, after nearly two months of daily hosings, yet it sorely needed to be properly washed and conditioned. "Not like straightness comes to us naturally, I guess."

"Nay," Ravus granted in amusement. He rose to his bare feet and ran his hands through his hair, as well. Shorter that Safay's and just touching to his shoulders, it more readily fell back into a reasonable semblance of order. Ravus crossed to a massive armoire in the bedchamber's corner. He had no idea if there would be anything inside, but it seemed worth a check. He wasn't in the mood to strap himself back into his raiment, for perhaps an hour, just to have to unravel his way out of it again when he returned to his chambers to shower.

The former commander hadn't packed for this visit at all; Ravus had planned on sleeping one night in his raiment coat and leg armor, and then, well, dying when the Lucii would decide that his time with the ring's power was up. That didn't require so much as a change of socks. Safay had had nothing of his own brought to the suite with him; also unsurprising, given the circumstances around his disappearance. Anything the general might have packed was on an Imperial dropship that had returned to Niflheim without him, several weeks before.

The armoire held a dozen empty hangers, and little else. That little else, however, was a pair of yukata-like robes. Black and charcoal, like almost everything else in the palace, Ravus noted. Cotton, a fine, crisp weave that bore a pattern of the Lucis Caelum four-petal floral crest. He'd seen that the guest suites' bathrooms contained the traditional white bathrobes of full hotel service, even if he hadn't the time to wear the one in his previous chambers. These in the wardrobe were likely a sort of emergency garment, while a high-profile visitor awaited the palace laundry, but respectable enough to wear for a walk through the public courtyard.

It wasn't as though Ravus and his partner would be nude beneath them; it was simply that Lunafreya was correct that their undershirts were obvious and not fit for a royal audience--no matter how informal or lenient that audience may be. Some effort would be far better received than none at all.

Ravus pulled one onto his shoulders, for fit. The robe's hem fell at an awkward place between his ankles and calves, and the ends of the sleeves lacked a inch to reach his wrists, but both aspects would be all but impossible to notice, seated at a dining table. He left his undershirt on and tied the broad sash of matching cloth at his waist.

"You look good in black," he heard from behind himself.

Ravus glanced to his approaching partner, and pushed a breath of laughter from his nose.

"Don't grow used to it," Ravus said. "I've no desire to take any of the Lucian culture with me, once we leave."

"Of course," Safay mused, little more than a couple of feet away, "you look good in nothing."

Ravus turned to his soldier, and regarded him with a soft smile. His hands held light and firm to Safay's hips, then slipped beneath the teeshirt's bottom out of habit, to slide up to his sides. Safay had no objection, and assisted by pulling the shirt off, over his head, and dropped it to the floor. Ravus' fingertips brushed up along the outer edges of the strong muscles of Safay's torso.

The muscles seemed more pronounced that Ravus last recalled. Not stronger, but... sharper. More defined. His skin was still soft, but there was less between the surface and the muscle beneath. Lost weight. Dehydration. Safay's appearance was a mess, when he was without a purpose to take better care of himself, but he was never careless toward keeping himself fit. This difference was not from his own doing.

Safay could sense him dwelling on that, and took Ravus' hands in his own, to hold his prince's palms over the full rounds of the soldier's chest. It certainly switched Ravus' focus to slow and decadent squeezes of his lover's flesh. Safay stroked along Ravus' forearms, as his prince's thumbs traced lightly over the small mythril bars pierced horizontally through his soldier's nipples.

“There was never going to be another who'd be so brazen with royal hands,” Ravus sighed. “Never another that I'd permit, that I'd _trust_ , to be so bold.”

“Sometimes, you need reminded that _everything_ I have, is yours,” Safay groaned, happily. “I can only give my life for you once, Highness, but you can take the body that houses that life, as much as you please.”

Ravus' hands moved further up, along his soldier's neck, to cup Safay's jaw in his hands.

"How was I supposed to go on, without you?" Ravus asked, in a whisper.

Safay's hands rose to his prince's wrists, to keep the familiar touch on his skin and nuzzle into Ravus' left palm. "By living on for both of us, because I went through it all, for you."

The romantic haze quickly sobered out of Ravus' expression.

"Went through what?" he demanded.

Safay thought through a silent moment before he answered. As hard as it was to think of a way to explain that wouldn't set Ravus off on a brand new path to killing Regis, it was just as hard to put words to something that Safay never wanted to think about again.

"Sapphirus, where have you been, these many weeks?"

"Here," Safay finally replied. "Sort of. Ravus... I-I don't know how much you know about the Citadel's brig...?"

* * *

 

 


End file.
